Harry Potter and the Tower of Darkness
by The Dark Underlord
Summary: Voldemort kills Dumbledore during the events of OoTP and takes possession of the Elder Wand. The tide of the war shifts as a new Minister takes power and Harry's training to confront and defeat Voldemort begins. See Chapter 1 for a better summary.
1. A Twist of Fate

_**Summary: This is a reposting of a previous story of mine (my first actually). For those who may remember, this story is taking a significantly different approach. In this story, Voldemort kills Dumbledore in the Ministry and possesses the Elder Wand. He also knows of the other two Hallows even if he does not understand their properties. He will make it his purpose to possess the Hallows, believing they will make him more powerful than Death.**_

_**Harry will undergo training now that Dumbledore is not controlling his fate, from new faces and old. His true connection with Voldemort will also be explored, as well as his ancestry, something I felt was lacking in canon.**_

_**In terms of eventual pairings, since romance is a fairly significant pillar of this story, is relatively straightforward. The important ones are listed as follows: Harry/Tracey, Hermione/Ginny, Remus/Tonks, Snape/OC, Neville/Lavender, Ron/Susan. **_

_**Hope you enjoy it and thanks for reading!**_

_A/N—I do not own Harry Potter_

**A Twist of Fate**

"Nothing there!" he shouted. "Nothing to summon! It smashed and nobody heard what it said, tell your boss that…"

"No!" she screamed. "It isn't true, you're lying—MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED—DO NOT PUNISH ME…"

"Don't waste your breath," yelled Harry, his eyes screwed up against the pain in his scar, now more terrible than ever. "He can't hear you from here!"

"Can't I, Potter," said a high, cold voice.

Harry opened his eyes.

Tall, thin, and black-hooded, his terrible snakelike face white and gaunt, his scarlet, slit-pupiled eyes staring . . . Lord Voldemort had appeared in the middle of the hall, his wand pointing at Harry who stood frozen, quite unable to move.

"So you smashed my prophecy," said Voldemort softly, staring at Harry with those pitiless red eyes. "No, Bella, he is not lying…I see the truth looking at me from within his worthless mind. Months of preparation, months of effort…and my Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again…"

"Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black," sobbed Bellatrix, flinging herself down at Voldemort's feet as he paced slowly nearer. "Master, you should know…"

"Be quiet, Bella," said Voldemort dangerously, though he carefully monitored the approaching storm rising from below. "I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?"

"But Master—he is here—he is below—"

Voldemort contemptuously turned his back on Bella, readying himself for the moment at hand.

"I have nothing more to say to you, Potter," he said slowly. "You have irked me too often, for too long. AVADA KEDAVRA!"

It was not a true killing curse; Voldemort could not afford to kill the brat now. So he was not surprised when the headless golden statue of the wizard in the fountain had sprung alive, leaping from its plinth, and landed on the floor with a crash between Harry and Voldemort. The spell merely glanced off its chest as the statue flung out its arms, protecting Harry.

"What…" said Voldemort, staring around with mock concern and disbelief. And then he breathed, "Dumbledore!"

Voldemort raised his wand and sent another jet of green light at Dumbledore, who turned and was gone in a whirling of his cloak; next second he had reappeared behind Voldemort and waved his wand toward the remnants of the fountain; the other statues sprang to life too. The statue of the witch ran at Bellatrix, who screamed and sent spells streaming uselessly off its chest, before it dived at her, pinning her to the floor. Meanwhile, the goblin and the house-elf scuttled toward the fireplaces set along the wall, and the one-armed centaur galloped at Voldemort, who vanished and reappeared beside the pool. The headless statue thrust Harry backward, away from the fight, as Dumbledore advanced on Voldemort and the golden centaur cantered around the both.

Voldemort paid careful heed to where Bellatrix and Potter fell. Fortunately, Bellatrix's wand was still within reach of her outstretched hand and she was only four to seven meters away from Harry.

"It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," said Dumbledore calmly, his blue eyes locked with Voldemort's red. "The Aurors are on their way…"

"By which time I shall be gone, and you dead," spat Voldemort. He sent another Killing Curse at Dumbledore, deliberately aiming slightly above the ancient wizard's left shoulder. Behind him, the security guards desk burst into flame.

Voldemort felt the countercurse coming, felt the raw power of the _deprimo _hex, which is traditionally very mild. To test the force of the spell, he conjured a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it, instead of the usual shield charm. The spell caused no visible damage to the shield, though a deep, gonglike note reverberated from it, an oddly chilling sound. Behind his shield, Voldemort smiled carnivoursly at the power displayed.

"You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore," called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. "Above such brutality, are you?" Voldemort continued moving in a counterclockwise circle, moving closer to his intended target.

"We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. "Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit…"

"There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore," snarled Voldemort, all the while trying to figure out what his next move would be.

"You are quite wrong," said Dumbledore, still closing in upon Voldemort and speaking as lightly as though they were discussing the matter over drinks. "Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness."

In a show mock anger, Voldemort vanished his shield, snarled hatefully, and cast another killing curse. This time it was the one-armed centaur, galloping in front of Dumbledore, that took the blast and shattered into a hundred pieces, but before the fragments had even hit the floor, Dumbledore had drawn back his wand and waved it as though brandishing a whip. A long thin flame flew from the tip; it wrapped itself around Voldemort. For a moment, it seemed Dumbledore had won, but then the fiery rope became a serpent, which relinquished its hold upon Voldemort at once and turned, at Voldemort's command, to face Dumbledore.

Voldemort vanished. The snake reared from the floor, ready to strike.

There was a burst of flame in midair above Dumbledore just as Voldemort reappeared, standing on the plinth in the middle of the pool where so recently the five statues had stood.

Voldemort cast yet another jet of green light at the same moment that the snake leapt at Dumbledore, fangs bared. Fawkes swooped down in front of Dumbledore, opened his beak wide, and swallowed the jet of green light whole. He burst into flame and fell to the floor, small, wrinkled, and flightless. At the same moment, Dumbledore brandished his wand in one, long, fluid movement—the snake, which had been an instant from sinking its fangs into him, flew high into the air and vanished in a wisp of dark smoke.

All of that happened quickly but it was enough time for Voldemort to free Bellatrix before he turned to face Dumbledore. "Bella," he said, his eyes never leaving Dumbledore. "Kill Potter."

Bellatrix smiled hungrily and advanced on Harry, her knife flickering in the flames of the destroyed security desk. Harry could see the manic gleam in her eye. But, as Voldemort expected, Dumbledore fired a curse at Bellatrix, sending her flying into the fountain. Voldemort heard her neck snap and felt her die. The shock he felt at Dumbledore killing surprised him and nearly ruined his carefully laid plans. But in the moment before Dumbledore could bring his wand to bear, Voldemort cast one last killing curse. He cackled madly when the curse struck and Dumbledore fell to the ground with finality.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!"

Voldemort turned to Potter and smiled, a taut leer that was more menacing than a glare. He walked over and picked up Dumbledore's wand and immediately felt power coursing through his veins. It was a feeling unlike any he had experienced. For a moment, he felt his stomach contract and was fearful, after all this time, Dumbledore had bewitched the wand. But then the pull on his stomach released and Voldemort felt normal.

He laughed hysterically and raised the wand. A cannon boom went off and all the glass in every office blew out and fell to the floor. Voldemort held his arms out, as if it were nothing but snow. When the last piece fell with a small _tinkle_, Voldemort looked at Harry again. "Now we find out Potter if my calculations are correct." Without warning, his cast a killing curse at Harry. He turned on his heel before the curse hit, not wanting to be on the receiving end if he was right.

As his expected, the curse struck Harry and caused his head to bounce off the marble floor, obviously concussed. He watched the rebounded killing curse fly like lightening through the spot his once stood. When he was sure there was no danger, he walked over to Potter, pointed his wand at the boy and said "Rennervate."

Potter stirred, his eyes still dazed. He still had a concussion but Voldemort needed him awake before the aurors and the Minister arrived. He reached down and grabbed Potter's face. "Look at me Potter," he snarled. Potter looked at him but his eyes were shifting in and out of focus. Voldemort snarled and drove a nail into his scar, drawing both blood and a scream from the young boy. But he stared at Voldemort, his eyes focused, although they blazed with hate and, much to the Dark Lord's consternation, significant power.

None of that showed on his face though. "Listen to me very carefully Potter," his hissed. "Dumbledore died to protect you, as I knew he would. But it matters not. I've unlocked the secret to his power and it is mine. I will find a way to break the protection he gave you, as surely as I broke the protection your mother gave you. In the meantime, I will kill _every _person you love, one by one, until you beg for death. All that I ask in return for giving you the gift of salvation is that you take this time to prepare yourself for that final battle. For when you and I duel that final time, I want there to be no doubts that I am the greater wizard."

As he finished his warning, the fires throughout the Ministry Atrium started billowing green fire and witches and wizards stepped out of the grates, wands drawn. Voldemort smiled. "Good evening Minister," he said softly, though his voice nonetheless carried throughout the hall.

Fudge's eyes found Voldemort and he nearly fainted. "He's…you're back," he said fearfully.

Voldemort rose to his feet. "Have you missed me Minister," he asked, fully aware that every aurors wand was trained on him. "I feel I must thank you for everything you have done this past year. Were it not for you, it is quite possible that my most loyal followers would not have been released from prison when the Dementors revolted. I might also not have the loyalty of the giants, vampires, and werewolves. So again, I must give you my most sincerest gratitude for all that you have done to ensure my comeback went off smoothly." Voldemort bowed.

Fudge sputtered and fumed, his face paling as he realized how many people were looking at him with utterly furious glares.

Voldemort made as if to check the time. He spread his arms widely. Every fireplace grate slammed shut. "Forgive me friends but I must retire. Good evening and I look forward to when we shall meet again." He disappeared his rush of wind and smoke. Then, to the horror of everyone in the chamber, the glass he had destroyed billowed up like a tornado and flew at everyone on the other side of the hall.

Several witches and wizards screamed when they realized that the grates would not open and that they were trapped by an anti-apparation ward Voldemort had put up. A handful of aurors grabbed people and pulled them close as they raised different shields. Others tried to hide in the corners next to the fireplaces, hopeful that the glass would not get them there. Others stood stock-still, too scared to even move.

Harry, in yet another piece of irony from Voldemort, was protected as no spell Voldemort cast could kill Harry, directly or indirectly. Yet he had a perfect view of the carnage as men and women were gutted, blood spraying everywhere in the hall. Some of the aurors with shields kept them safe but others were not as effective. Blood and gore spilled out of the corners of the room as well, telling Harry those people were dead too.

After a couple of minutes, the tornado of glass ceased. The Atrium smelled powerfully of both the iron-stink of blood but also of bowels recently emptied. Harry would never forget that smell, no matter how hard he tried.

"Sweet Merlin," called a rasp, rough voice at the same time several screams pierced the quiet. Harry painfully turned his head—he was still dizzy form his concussion—and saw Ginny and Luna crying while Neville looked pale as a ghost.

Remus came over and helped free Harry from the statue. He noticed the clotted blood on the back of Harry's head. "Harry, can you see okay," he asked caringly. Harry nodded, causing his head to spin. Remus seemed to sense that and put Harry's arm around his shoulder to support him. "Come on Harry. I have you."

"Wait Remus," Moody growled, though there was a note of sorrow in his voice. "You need to see…come here for a moment." He couldn't bring himself to say Dumbledore was dead.

Remus turned and looked at Dumbledore's fallen body and nearly released Harry. "No, this cannot be happening," he said, though there was no fear in his voice—only infinite sadness. Then Remus noticed a small chirping coming for Dumbledore's left. "Alastor, pick up Fawkes."

Moody bent down and, as is customary for the death of an animal's familiar, he placed Fawkes on Dumbledore's chest. But the little phoenix, even in its infantile state, chirped negatively and tried to flap his little wings.

"What is the problem," Moody asked curiously. He bent back down and picked up Fawkes. The baby phoenix chirped and flapped towards Harry. "He wants you now Potter. Dumbledore must have left Fawkes to you." Moody put Fawkes in Harry's pocket and immediately, Harry felt a warm sensation in his naval.

Before he could think about the ramifications of having a phoenix, three men advanced on him, their wands drawn and, from the man in the center, a look of unbridled fury. "Come with me Potter," Fudge snapped.

Harry looked at him blearily, though the proximity with Fawkes was giving him strength. "Oho, found your tongue now did you Minister. Where was this bravado when Voldemort was standing before you?"

Fudge paled. One of the aurors stepped forward and jammed his wand into Harry's chest. "You should watch you tongue boy," the man snapped, his wand burning a hole in Harry's shirt.

Moody raised his wand, pushing the auror back. "That was a mistake Rufus," he rasped. "You've all just seen proof that Voldemort is back. Dumbledore managed to capture a number of Death Eaters in the Death Chamber. And even still, you talk to Potter like he is a criminal. Show me the warrant before you haul Harry off."

"Enough of this," bellowed another voice, feminine but radiating authority. "Rufus, Dawlish, go downstairs and retrieve the Death Eaters. "Kingsley and Moody, if you two would be good enough to tend to the wounded. I will speak privately with Remus, Harry, and his friends."

"Excuse me Amelia," said Fudge angrily. "You do not have the authority to override me."

"Cornelius, given what has transpired, I would say you have little practical authority," she countered calmly. "I would strongly suggest you go to your office and convene the Wizengamot."

"What do you need them for," he asked weakly. Even in his befuddled state, Harry could sense the fear in his voice.

"I am calling for a vote of no confidence in you," she said simply. Moody and Kingsley looked pleased and a nearly every survivor in the hall (those not passed out that is) clapped loudly and several cried "Second!" Fudge gave Amelia one incensed look and then stormed off towards his office.

Amelia looked at the body of Albus Dumbledore and a lone tear slid down her cheek. "He was a truly wonderful man and he will be missed." She drew herself straighter though. "But he would not have wanted us to sink beneath our grief and we shan't. Remus, please escort Harry to my office." She looked kindly at Ginny, Neville, and Luna. "If you three would please join us. I understand that this has been a terrible ordeal but I must find out exactly what happened here this evening." His friends really didn't show much of a reaction but followed numbly. Before they got in the lift, Harry heard Amelia shout for a healer.

Remus helped Harry into a chair and conjured a couple chairs for his friends. Then he went over to the fire and threw in floo powder. "Hogwarts—Professor McGonagall's Office," he said. He shared a few quiet words and then retracted just as Amelia walked into the office with two other women—healers apparently as one went to work on Harry's injury and the other saw to his friends.

Fawkes had been helping negate the worse of the pain but he wasn't capable of crying yet so it didn't really matter. The healer though healed his wound with practiced care and in no time he felt better.

"Thank you Phyllis, Jennifer," Amelia said as the two ladies left. "Now Remus, to whom were you speaking."

Before he could answer, the fire roared green again and Professor McGonagall and Snape stepped out. The former looked calm but Harry could tell she was on the verge of tears. Surprisingly, Snape looked slightly deflated.

"Ah, Professors. Thank you for coming. I am glad Remus saw fit to contact you. I imagine he told you the worst of this evenings events."

Minevra McGonagall sniffed. "Yes. I am glad Harry and the others are safe."

Amelia didn't push the topic of Dumbledore's death, which Harry was immensely grateful for. "I requested Harry and his friends, along with Remus of course, come to my office because I need to know precisely what happened this evening." She looked at the two professors. "I suspect the events of this evening began at the school though. Can either of you tell me anything?"

Snape told her in a few short sentences about Harry's vision, his being captured by Umbridge, and how he checked with the Order to make sure Sirius was safe. Harry looked surprised at the news that Snape checked on Sirius. Amelia looked shocked at the news that they were in contact with Sirius. "How in the world do you all know Sirius Black?"

Harry's face set and he fought the anguish gripping his heart. "Sirius Black was framed all those years ago by Peter Pettigrew."

"Was Sirius Black not your parents secret keeper," she asked, speaking only to Harry.

Harry shook his head. "No. Two years ago I found out that they switched to Peter because they believed Voldemort would consider him to weak and pathetic to be the secret keeper. They were wrong but when Sirius cornered Peter, he cut off a finger, killed those muggles, and escaped."

Amelia pulled a bottle out of her desk drawer. "Harry, I hope you'll forgive me but in order for this to have any legal weight, I will need you confirm your story under the influence of Veritiserum. Will you consent to taking the potion?" She did not push him nor did he think if he said no she would be angry. But Harry saw it as a way to posthumously honor Sirius.

Amelia dropped three drops on his tongue and then asked him fifteen questions concerning Sirius' past and the events from this evening. She tasked Professor McGonagall with recording the answers on parchment and Remus consented to giving the memory of the evening for evaluation.

Thirty minutes later, they had all the information they needed. "Thank you Harry. This was very brave and, if I may speak candidly, it sickens me that we allowed this to happen." She did indeed look disgusted, and Harry sensed she blamed herself as well. "But now we know Voldemort has returned. We must act very quickly to ensure the proper measures are taken."

"What will you do," asked Ginny, speaking for the first time. Her eyes were red from tears and she looked at Harry with deep sadness.

"The first thing we must do, and this morning if I have anything to say on the matter, is sack Fudge. He refused to listen to Dumbledore and sat on people who tried to make him see sense."

Harry remembered his trial. "What did he do to you for voting for me last summer?" He sensed he could trust this woman but he needed to know exactly what she was doing on the inside because Harry knew she was not a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

She smiled at him. "You do not trust me fully," she said with no malice. "After your trial, he attempted to remove me as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. But the Wizengamot refused to vote on the matter, much to his dismay. I have many friends on the Wizengamot Harry, and throughout the Ministry. I may not be a part of Dumbledore's group but I share their sympathies. But I didn't confront Fudge. I resisted him in many smaller ways, such as sending aurors and soldiers throughout the country. Their _de jure _mission was to capture Sirius Black but their _de facto _mission was to hunt Death Eaters in muggle communities. But Voldemort truly was keeping his hand to himself because they couldn't find anyone."

"Then Fudge caught on, after Rufus went to him of course. Again he attempted to have me removed but there was no evidence that their objective was anything beyond capturing Sirius Black so he failed. But he assumed control of the aurors and our standing army and rendered me powerless, at least in my official capacity. I still rallied people against Fudge but I needed to work carefully or else, on the third attempt, he may have succeeded in removing me from office."

"What happens after Fudge is ousted from office," asked Remus.

"Then we need to find a successor. Again, this needs to happen quickly. If we push hard, we can remove Fudge and have a new Minister before the day is out."

"Who would you suggest," asked Minevra.

"Off the top of my head, there are three worthy choices: Kingsley Shacklebot, Arthur Weasley, and Dirk Cresswell. My fear is that a few on the Wizengamot will stall the vote because Arthur has too much affection for muggles and Dirk is a muggle-born. That is why we need to pick a candidate and move to hold the vote soon after Fudge is removed so we can avoid such nonsensical debates."

"What about you Amelia," Minevra asked and Harry saw Remus nod. "You are a worthy choice."

"I agree. And you would be voted in on first ballot," Neville said. "Gran always speaks very highly of you."

"I would take the position but I have baggage of my own."

"That's rubbish Amelia and you know it," rasped Moody from the doorway. "Excuse me but I want to let you know the wounded have been moved to St. Mungos. The dead have been sent there as well. Their families will be notified. Dawlish and Rufus brought up the Death Eaters and they are being detained in a couple of the holding cells. Their wands are being evaluated and will be ready for their trials."

Amelia cut him off. "They will have no trials. I have all the evidence I need from Potter and the others. Send them to Azkaban and tell Donovan that I want them placed under the strongest protections he can enact."

Moody eyed her contemplatively. "Yes ma'am. And you don't think you would be the best choice for Minister." He didn't wait for a response.

Amelia looked a little flustered. Her demeanor didn't change as she looked at everyone in the room, all of whom looked as if they agreed with Moody. "Very well, I shall submit my candidacy first but it will waste time if they do not approve."

Remus smirked. "I think it'll be fine." Then his expression softened. "If there is nothing else, I should like to escort Harry and his friends to Hogwarts. I trust Hermione and Ron have already been delivered."

"I'll go with you Remus," said McGonagall. Snape started to rise as well but Amelia held him back.

"I need you to stay Severus. I need a witness from the school regarding Umbridge. If I am going to sack Fudge, I may as well sack Umbridge. Minevra needs to assume her duties as Headmistress so I cannot ask her to stay." Snape nodded curtly and stayed behind as the other flooed to McGonagall's office.

"Remus, if you would, escort these four to the hospital so Poppy can check them again. Tell her that they have my permission to stay with Ron and Hermione until they recover. Then, if you would, please come back so that we can discuss how the Order is going to move forward."

After spending time to make sure Harry and the others were okay, Remus returned to McGonagall's office. He was not surprised to see Moody, Diggle, Kingsley, and Arthur.

"Thank you for returning Remus. Now, the first order of business is I received word through Kingsley that Fudge has been officially voted out as Minister. As is customary, a caretaker government has been established under Amelia Bones but she is pushing hard for a final vote this afternoon. The Wizengamot is hearing arguments for Kingsley, Dirk Cresswell, and Amelia. Arthur turned down the nomination." The Weasley patriarch blushed.

McGonagall's voice dropped a little with her second announcement. "As all of you now know, Albus is dead, murdered by You-Know-Who." She paused to wipe at her eye. "This makes the current situation all the more dangerous because he was the only wizard You-Know-Who ever feared. We must prepare for the war to move into the open and that means people are in more danger than ever."

"If Amelia gets the position, I fully expect her to move the Ministry into full combat readiness. She has already sacked Scrimgeour as head of the aurors and appointed Kingsley in his stead. She is also drafting a bill that will institute a draft to boost the army, though she will keep it on the backburner until the Wizengamot votes."

"I have already promised Amelia that I will enact the legislation if voted and I know Dirk will do the same, given the situation. The problem will be if another individual is selected by the Wizengamot."

"Given everything that has happened, I suspect Amelia will get the position. If that is the case, then the Order can move more openly with a friendly Ministry," concluded McGonagall. "Now, we must decide what to do with Potter. With Albus gone, his training falls to us."

"What do you mean training," Diggle asked. "And why is it so important Harry is trained?"

McGonagall stared at him, confused. "What do you mean Dedalus?" Then she saw a similar look of confusion on Moody's and Kingsley's faces. "You two don't know why we need to train Harry either?"

When they shook their heads, McGonagall nearly screamed. "Very well," she said, her mouth set in the thinnest of lines. "It seems we need to converse with Dumbledore. Gentlemen, please follow me."

She led them through the halls and into the Head office. She resolved to set the password at a later date. As she expected, Dumbledore was awake and did not seem surprised to see a number of the Order's leaders. "Good evening Minevra," he said.

"Do not 'good evening' me Albus," she said angrily. "How can you not have filled in the Order after Harry saw You-Know-Who return?" Then she looked at him, her hand covering her mouth. "You haven't told Harry either have you," she whispered. When he didn't answer, she advanced on the portrait, aware there was nothing she could do but furious all the same. "Does Harry know of the prophecy?"

Dumbledore hung his head. "No Minevra. He does not."

"When were you planning on telling him pray tell?"

"I don't know. Please Minevra. I did it so he would not worry."

"Idiot," she said savagely. "Remus, fetch Harry. It is time he knows the reason why You-Know-Who tried to kill him all those years ago." Kingsley, Moody, Diggle, and Arthur all looked shocked at McGonagall's rage.

Five minutes later, Remus came through the door with a rather confused (and, though he tried to hide it, devastated) Harry Potter. "What is this about Professor?"

McGonagall fought the urge to yell at Dumbledore again, instead taking a deep breath. "Harry, do you have any idea what was in the prophecy that Longbottom destroyed this evening?"

Harry's eyes widened. Apparently he hadn't expected to discuss the prophecy. "No Professor. Lucius did say it had something to do with why Voldemort tried to kill me as a baby and why I have my scar but that was it."

McGonagall gave curt nod. "Very well Potter. That certainly is true. Now, given tonight's events, I have decided that it is time to tell you the prophecy in its entirety. Only then can you understand why You-Know-Who has targeted you since you were an infant and why, beginning this summer, you will need additional training so you can be prepared to fight him as he alluded to this evening."

McGonagall walked back and pulled Dumbledore's penseive out of the cabinet and placed it on the desk. She focused very carefully on the memory Dumbledore showed her and then prodded the contents. Quite quickly, Sybil Trelawney rose from the depths, rotating clockwise as if speaking to everyone.

_**THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD **_

_**APPROACHES…BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN **_

_**AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK **_

_**HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS **_

_**NOT…AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEI- **_

_**THER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES…THE ONE WITH THE **_

_**POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH **_

_**MONTH DIES…**_

Professor Trelawney sank back into the depths of Dumbledore's memories and silence fell in the office. Remus was the first to break the silence. "Minevra, did Lily and James know about the prophecy?"

"Yes Remus. Albus told them shortly after they escaped You-Know-Who for the third time. They were also not the only couple to be moved into a safe house. If you will remember…"

"Frank and Alice were moved to a cottage in Wales," finished Moody. "Blimey, I never considered why they were moved."

"So what does this mean," asked Harry, unconsciously rubbing his scar.

Professor McGonagall shot Dumbledore a nasty leer before responding. "It means that perhaps six months before you were born, a prophecy was made about a boy who would grow to defeat You-Know-Who. That boy would be born at the end of July to parents who had defied him three times. Now that is the simple part. Within two months of the prophecy being made, according to Albus, two sets of parents defied You-Know-Who for a third time. Both women were pregnant and expected to give birth at the end of July. One set was your parents. The other was…"

"Neville's parents," Harry finished, not sure how he knew but positive he was right.

McGonagall nodded. "Yes Harry. Neville was the second possible boy. Now the remainder of the decision was up to You-Know-Who, although he didn't know it."

Harry, ignoring the mounting fear he was feeling, looked confused. "I don't understand. How was the decision Voldemort's at this time?"

"Because the remaining part of the prophecy stipulates that You-Know-Who would mark the boy as his equal. And he did, that Halloween night. Whether or not he planned to kill you both is a mystery but he decided to attack you first."

"That raises an interesting question Minevra," said Kingsley. "Why did You-Know-Who choose Harry, at least as his first target? Neville was the pureblood."

But Harry knew. "Because Voldemort is a half-blood too, just like me." Everyone looked at him with some surprise and, to his disbelief, skepticism. "It's true. Voldemort was known once upon a time as Tom Marvolo Riddle. He mum was a witch and his dad a muggle. I don't know the exact circumstances, but his mum died and he was raised in an orphanage. When he realized his dad was a 'common' muggle, he fashioned himself a new name: Lord Voldemort."

McGonagall nodded. "That is what Albus thought and I agree. Tom and I went to school together, though I would never have imagined he would become what he did. But I digress, by casting herself between you and You-Know-Who, Lily gave you a protection that he could not penetrate. And, as Harry has shown through the years, the effects of the failed curse are significant."

Harry rubbed his scar again. "Dumbledore told me that was why I could speak to snakes and why I could catch glimpses of his mind and emotions." He glared at the portrait. "What you neglected to tell me _Professor _is that in the end I either must kill him or he must kill me." Harry hid the fear he felt at this revelation behind anger.

Dumbledore had the decency to look ashamed. "I am truly sorry Harry. I had never expected to care for you as much as I grew to. My only thought, each passing year, was that I did not want to burden you with such knowledge. I know now that it was folly, and that if you knew what the prophecy said, you would not be tempted to seek it out this year. I am happy though that, whatever my mistakes, I died protecting you."

Whatever anger Harry and Professor McGonagall felt was immediately quashed, though Harry still held some resentment for being left in the dark. "What is 'the power the Dark Lord knows not' supposed to be," he asked, moving the topic in another direction.

"I believe it is, quite simply, your ability to love," Dumbledore said. "He does not respect, and so does not understand, the power that your mother gave to you that horrible night, nor does he understand how, after all the suffering you have endured, you can still resist the call of the Dark Arts. However, you may possess abilities to help you do battle with Voldemort as well."

"And how do we determine what these abilities may be," asked Remus. The werewolf, though he understood Dumbledore's motives for not telling Harry, still resented the Headmaster for not telling him all the same.

"Harry Potter is the heir to the Potter legacy and fortune. He is also, by virtue of the will of Sirius Black, the last heir of the Black legacy and fortune. When he turns sixteen, he will be able to claim his birthright since his parents and guardians are deceased. At that time, it would be prudent for Gringott's to administer an evaluation of his abilities and genealogy. That may reveal secrets that hitherto are unknown."

McGonagall nodded. "Very well Albus. That will also allow us to determine how best to prepare Harry."

* * *

><p>Amelia Bones stood before the Wizengamot for the 4th time in the past six hours. It was nearly noon and she was growing increasingly agitated at the pace of the negotiations between the different factions of the Wizengamot. They called her before them now, and she hoped it was with their final decision.<p>

"Hello again Madam Bones," said Wilbert Dowling.

"Why have you called me," she said, cutting right to the chase. "We do not have time to dilly-dally. Who have you chosen to take over for Fudge permanently?"

Several witches and wizards glared at her, angry at the abruptness with which she addressed them. Given the circumstances, she hardly cared.

"Well Madam Bones, I daresay we won't take up more of your time today. Given the circumstances, there is much to attend to." He spoke with great sadness. Dowling was a worldly man who served as ambassador to the International Confederation of Wizards, two stints as an auror, one on the British Magical Navy, and Charms professor at Hogwarts. He lived through four dark lords: Godelot, Owle Bullock, Grindelwald, and now Voldemort. If anyone on the staff understood the magnitude of the current situation, it was he.

"After careful consideration," he said, resuming his speech. "We have decided to make you permanent Minister. It is my sincerest and personal hope that we all may live through the present crisis and live to enjoy a most deserved peace following this war."

Amelia nodded dutifully. "Thank you lords and ladies. If you will all excuse me." She waited politely for Dowling to nod and took leave.

"Congratulations Minister," Dirk Cresswell said as she left.

"Thank you Dirk. Now, I need you to speak with Ragnuk II and arrange a meeting between he and I."

Dirk nodded. "Of course Minister. When should I make the meeting for?"

"As soon as possible. If it were tomorrow, that would be great. The goblins never showed an interest in Voldemort but we cannot afford any of their blasted neutrality either."

Dirk smiled slyly. "I imagine you do not want me to refer to their 'splendid isolationism' as blasted neutrality."

Amelia didn't smile but the corner of her mouth twitched upwards. "I'll leave you to it Dirk. I have a meeting with Minister Faure, Minister Rykov, and Ambassador Eisen. Now that I am formally Minister, it will be much easier to hold negotiations."

Dirk bowed. "Very good Minister. I will speak with Ragnuk II and follow up with you this evening."

Amelia walked took the lift up to her floor and walked towards her office. As she passed through the Atrium, she was immensely grateful that the destruction from the battle was gone. It had been a terribly grisly scene.

"Hello Minister," said Percy Weasley somewhat stiffly. "The foreign contingent are waiting."

"Thank you Percy." She didn't care much for the boy (though she would never say that to his face). He was an opportunist and she had trouble deciding if he held any true loyalties. That being said, he was an incredibly hard worker, which would keep him in his position for now.

Putting Percy Weasley out of her mind, Amelia walked into her office and greeted the two men and one woman. "Has your congress decided on a Minister," Ambassador Rachel Eisen asked, her soft Virginian accent, not unlike her own.

"They have decided that I will serve as Minister during the present conflict." She smiled at her distinguished guests. "I imagine that will make out negotiations easier."

"It shall," stated Minister Nikolai Rykov. The Russian was an imposing man, tall, broad chested, with eyes like steel. He was not a man to be taken lightly, as Fudge too often did. Amelia, who always approved of Nikolai's no-nonsense approach to negotiations, saved many a deal that Fudge nearly squandered. Russia and Britain, during the war with Grindelwald, were rivals as well as allies. Now they stood steadfast together, each benefiting from continued friendly relations with the other.

"If I may, I am simply pleased not to deal with that insufferable Fudge and his toady—no pun intended," said Minister Émile Faure said with a chuckle. "Under different circumstances, I would worry about the diplomatic implications of such a comment but I know Amelia, you have no love for either."

"Why whatever do you mean Émile," she asked innocently. "Very good. Now onto business. As you three know, the wizard styling himself Lord Voldemort is once again active in the country. I have asked you three here so that we can coordinate forces to combat this threat."

"You are assuming of course that we will lend aid to your country," said the Frenchman candidly. "We generally have close ties with your country but many of my countrymen are, shall we say, disenchanted with the way your country has paid respects to our own in the fourteen years since Voldemort fell."

Amelia nodded. "I will admit to that. I cannot answer for the deeds—or misdeeds—of my predecessor. In your instance, I would hope your country would remember the British gold that flooded your markets after Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald. We also, despite being bogged down in a war on our own soil, sparred several of our most accomplished vampire slayers to eighteen years ago, to aid in the uprising against your government."

Without waiting for a response, she addressed Nikolai. "As for your government, I understand that there has been a rash of werewolf instances."

The Russian nodded. "Most unfortunate yes. How does this pertain to our possible assistance?"

"There is a potion. It will not cure werewolves but it will significantly diminish the effects of the transformation. I will release the full collection of notes and trial records to your government for your assistance. Given the current state of things, I hope you will understand why I cannot spare any potioneers."

Nikolai showed none of what he was thinking. "And for this you would expect? For that matter, why speak with all of us together?"

Amelia closed her eyes and sighed. "I am aware that my country called in a number of favors during the last war, favors that were owed because of our involvement in Grindelwald's war. Now I am asking for a show of faith." She looked each of her guests in the eye. "Your countries, more than any other, have been affected by Voldemort or his forces during the last war. You know his power and his knowledge of the Dark Arts. But I suspect he has learned his lessons now. He will focus all his energies on toppling the government I lead. But when he does, nothing will stop him from expanding his influence elsewhere."

"That is a bold statement Amelia," said Eisen. "But what you are asking for is misleading. If it is faith you want, I daresay we have faith in your country. You want men and matériel for your fight. That is different."

Amelia frowned but then realized the fault was with her. "I apologize for not being clear. I am not asking you to have faith in my country. I am sure myself and others have your faith. No, I am asking you to have faith in Harry Potter."

Silence met this request. Rachel was the first to break it. "I am afraid I do not understand Amelia. Why do we need to have faith in a teenage boy? I understand he 'defeated' Voldemort when he was a baby but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Harry Potter has been targeted by Lord Voldemort or one of his followers each of the past five years. Yet each time he has met the challenge. Under the influence of Veritiserum, Harry confirmed that Voldemort has marked him as his primary adversary. Voldemort wants Harry properly trained so that when they duel for the final time, there will be no doubt Voldemort is the superior."

The three ambassadors shared confused looks. "What are you requesting," Nikolai asked.

"I am asking you to have faith that Harry will learn all that he must to defeat Voldemort when that final battle comes…faith that we can train and prepare him or that battle."

More confused looks. "You are not making sense _mon cheri_."

"My country needs _time_," she stressed. "Time to prepare Harry for the fight that we know is coming. It will ultimately decide who wins this war. But we will need your help to give us that time. We will need matériel certainly. But more then that, we need soldiers and, if you will spare them, aurors. If you give us that show of faith, you will have not only the gratitude of my country but also the support of one of the most powerful and famous wizards of the age. How many services did Dumbledore do for your countries and others after Grindelwald was defeated? How much influence did he have on international events, influence that directly and indirectly led to safer and more secure conditions in your countries and others? I am asking you to have faith that Harry will show the same dedication to justice and will, more importantly, have the ability to affect positive change in our world for generations, as Dumbledore did before him."

The three foreign representatives shared another look, but this time it was contemplative. "This type of service is not something you can teach someone," Nikolai said slowly. "It is something you are born with. Does Potter have a sense of justice and resistance to the Dark Arts?"

Amelia nodded. "He does. He has suffered so much and shares an intimate connection with the foulest wizard to walk the Earth. And yet he is not seduced by the Dark Arts. He continues to love when it would be easier to hate. I have faith in Harry that he can save this country. I ask that you have faith that he can change the world."

* * *

><p>Voldemort watched the two men before him writhe in and scream with pain and could not help but smile with glee. He prided himself on being extraordinarily powerful but with this wand, he barely need to exert himself for his spells to have more effect than any he cast with his yew wand. And if he applied more force—as he was doing now—the effects were truly amazing.<p>

After twenty seconds, he lifted the curse and watched as each man tried to compose himself. Two vomited what pitiful contents were left in their stomachs and looked ready to pass out, or possibly die. A ward of Voldemort's own creation kept them from passing out.

He walked over the man on the right and lifted his chin, staring hard into his dark blue eyes. There was very little life but enough to last him through this interrogation. "What more can you tell me about the Hallows," he said softly, menace in his voice.

The man blinked miserably, what little life he retained slowly degenerating. "I've told you everything," he said hoarsely. His head drooped but Voldemort knew he was looking at the ring on his finger. "You've already deduced that that was the stone."

Voldemort stood straight for a moment then slapped his prisoner; the stone upon his old family ring knocking free a tooth from the man's mouth. He barely had energy though to spit. The blood dripped lazily down his chin.

"Ollivander," Voldemort said, pointing towards his other prisoner, "has provided me with valuable information, without which I would not possess the Wand of Destiny! But he has never heard of the 'Deathly Hallows.' And Lord Voldemort always knows when one is lying. But you, I can see the thoughts that roam your mind. You were so proud when you discovered that you possessed the 1st Hallow. You desired the others but, alas, did not know where to look. You closed your shop and ventured around Europe and Britain, finding clues of their existence and their extraordinary properties."

Voldemort sat down, resting his chin on his fingers in a gesture reminiscent of Dumbledore. "I want what you discovered. Tell me Gregorovitch…tell me where you kept the secrets of Hallows two and three."

The older wand maker's eyelids fluttered uselessly, death not far from taking him. But before Voldemort could cast any spells that might keep him awake long enough to give something, he felt the other man succumb to death.

Furious, he killed Ollivander with a flick of his wand and left the room.

"Rowle, dispose of the bodies," he said, barely acknowledging the Death Eater standing outside the door.

He passed silently through the halls of Malfoy manor, ignoring his minions, consumed in his thoughts. After the boy escaped him in the graveyard, he had been afraid that there was some power the boy possessed that made him more powerful. He was relieved when, after some persuasion, Ollivander explained barely 10 months ago that Potter escaped because his wand and Potters were brothers. The boy possessed no great power. He was merely lucky.

But Voldemort knew then that he would need another wand, at least when he dueled Potter. The pathetic wandmaker's mind traveled down a path that, initially, seemed silly. Why would a wand from a children's story have any bearing on the present? But then Voldemort dove deeper into the man's consciousness and found the truth. Ollivander had seen a wand, many decades ago, in a peer's shop. The other wandmaker showed him how truly powerful it was and explained to him the story of the _Three Brothers _and the Deathly Hallows. Ollivander scoffed at the other Hallows but was enamored by the wand.

And it was that memory that sent Voldemort to a small village fifty miles north northeast of Sofia in Bulgaria, to the shop of Yaropolk Gregorovitch. The man was no longer in business, having sold his shop six years previous, but, as Voldemort, he still harbored a near obsession of the Elder Wand. But, despite months of torture and belligerent mind manipulation and excavation, Voldemort could not find any knowledge of the properties of the other Hallows, save that one was a black stone and the other was an invisibility cloak. Consumed as he is with the conquest of death, Voldemort sought the Hallows but, with Gregorovitch dead, the trial has gone cold.

A brusque knock jarred him from his musings. "Enter Augustus," he said softly.

The former Unspeakable shambled into his office, his eyes on the floor, his body reeking of fear. "Milord," he began.

"Speak Rookwood."

"Yes milord," he stammered. "Milord, I have received word that the Ministry is targeting all suspected Death Eaters in the Ministry."

Voldemort rapped his fingers on the desk, impatience lacing his voice as he spoke. "Rookwood, they have done this before. Why do you bring this news to me now?" He spoke with a modicum of danger. If Rookwood were wasting his time, he would suffer.

But Rookwood did indeed have most troubling news. "Milord, the new Minister—Amelia Bones—is working the Dirk Cresswell and Kingsley Shacklebot to interrogate all current and former Death Eater suspects. And their list is alarmingly accurate and extensive. They are also using Veritiserum. Already fifteen of our allies have been arrested and imprisoned…"

"In Azkaban," Voldemort interrupted.

"Some milord, but not all. They are using Ministry holding cells because they believe them safer."

"How do you know this information?"

Rookwood bowed and pointed his wand at the hallway. Voldemort heard a soft whimper as an extremely short, stout woman was levitated into his presence. Her pale, flabby face went a little green as she looked into the eyes of Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord recognized the woman from the papers.

"Dolores Umbridge," he said softly. "You were once Fudge's right-hand woman."

"Milord, three days ago, after Amelia was appointed Minister, Fudge were sacked. She wanted to remove Umbridge as well but, because the accused needed to be present, she sent a team of aurors to retrieve her. They knew, somehow, that she was being held in the forest by the centaurs. They rescued her, tried her, and sacked her in the space of two days."

"How then does she know of our current misfortunes?"

"From what I can gather from her memories, she pleaded with a number of her connections on the Wizengamot and in the Ministry to help her. A few did, others ignored her. One of her requests was to be informed of how her trial was commencing. Two different sources, purebloods that represent the Zabini and Davis families, told her that she was all but terminated and banished from the Ministry. But they also, perhaps because they hoped she would pass along the message, told her in detail about the efforts Madam Bones is putting forth to purge the Ministry of dissidents. And sure enough, Dolohov and Carrow apprehended her in Knockturn Alley as she tried to make contact with us."

Voldemort looked at his prisoner. He smiled as she looked upon him with terrible fear. "You are wise to fear me Dolores," he said. "But Lord Voldemort appreciates those who help him. For giving me this information, I will not harm you." The dumpy woman looked relieved, which caused Voldemort to smile hungrily. "Rookwood, take Miss Umbridge to the Interrogation chamber. I need every piece of information in her worthless mind concerning the Ministry, Hogwarts, and Azkaban. Do not withhold any efforts to extract all the necessary information."

"I shall not disappoint you milord. And after I am finished."

Voldemort leered at Umbridge. "Dispose of her." The dumpy woman tried fruitlessly to scream and struggle against her restraints. Amused, Voldemort vanished the cloth over her mouth with a wave of his hand. "What is it Madam Umbridge?"

"You said I wouldn't be harmed," she cried. "I sought you out to…to protect your followers."

Voldemort kneeled down and stared hard into the yes of his pathetic prisoner. "Such lies Madam Undersecretary. You served in the Ministry twenty-two years ago as junior aid to the Department of Magical Cooperation, when the Ministry enacted a 'secret' edict to capture any of my followers branded with the Dark Mark. You, like all the weak fools in the Ministry who thought as I did but feared serving under me, watched as my followers were captured. Where was your protection then?"

"And now, it was not a desire to protect that led you to me. It was fear. The Ministry cast you out because of the crimes you unleashed on the students of Hogwarts in particular but also because you are a fool and a blowhard. No doubt a few of my followers will be safely removed from the Ministry when I warn them, but I would've found out in the end."

"But I helped you all the same," Umbridge pleaded shrilly. "I will gladly give all the information I know to you. I wish…" she winced and Voldemort sensed her insides squirm. "I wish to serve you."

Voldemort laughed. "Even if that were true, which I know it is not, you are weak and foolish. A shrewd mind exists among the idiocy but not enough to make you valuable. Besides, for what other purpose would I put you besides spy in the Ministry? Hogwarts will never welcome you." He leered again. "No, death is the most effective way you can serve me. But first, my friend will gather all the information he can to make sure that, even in death, you serve Lord Voldemort well." He looked up at Augustus. "Take her away Rookwood."

Umbridge screamed bloody murder until Rookwood, having enough, sliced her bottom jaw off and pulled out her tongue. Before Voldemort could punish him for killing her, the former Unspeakable quickly and ably healed the wound. "I will give her a blood replenishing potion when I reach the chamber milord," he said with remorse. "I just could not stand to hear her voice any longer. And it is not as if she will need to speak in order for me to get the information I need."

"Very well Rookwood. Carry on."

_So the Ministry is trying to round up my followers and remove them from the government. This is a problem but I believe it is something that can, in time, be overcome. But first there are other things I must attend to._

He pressed a button on his desk. "Narcissa, Dolohov, and Scabior, please come to my office." Three pops announced the arrival of his minions. They each bowed and stood before him, silent and waiting. Voldemort felt Narcissa's pain at losing her sister. He could not fault her as she was one of his greatest followers.

"I have unfortunate news. The Ministry is trying to remove us from the government. Other plans must, as a result, be expedited to ensure we are not put at a disadvantage."

"What would you have us do milord," Dolohov said.

"I have three different tasks that I am entrusting to you three. I would've assigned them in time but we must act quickly. First, Dolohov, I want you to venture to the Tibet and the Canadian Rockies."

"Milord wants me to return with the Yeti," Dolohov interjected.

Voldemort nodded. "I do. Explain that they will join Liath's tribes in Scotland when they arrive. In return, assure them that our previous pledge will be carried forth."

"Milord, you will train them to use wands," he asked skeptically.

"No fool," Voldemort snapped. "Of course not. But you told me that they would not come unless such a promise is made. Am I correct?"

Dolohov bowed. "Yes milord. I apologize milord. I did not remember the conversation just now."

"See that you do not fail me in Tibet. You may leave Dolohov, with no more than two companions."

"Yes milord. Thank you milord." Dolohov fled.

"Scabior, your task is much simpler though you will need to travel quickly."

"What would you 'ave me do milord?"

"Put out the bulletin in Eastern Europe, Iran, the Congo River basin, South Africa, Mongolia, Korea, Canada, Brazil, Jamaica, and Chile that I am putting bounties on numerous targets. Be subtle because I do not want the governments warned if at all possible."

"If you're hoping to attract followers milord, it be best to offer sanctuary and pay to some interested in 'general' work as well."

Voldemort nodded once again. "I leave it to you to give an appropriate price for 'general' work and appointed hits. I expect a good reception."

Scabior nodded, one of his gold teeth shimmering as he smiled. "Leave it to me milord," he said confidently. "I'll 'ave several thousand crooks, thieves, and assassins 'ere quicker 'en you can imagine. And that doesn't count the riff-raff that'll be good cannon fodder."

Voldemort waved Scabior. "I will leave you too it. Return before the month is out."

Then it was only he and Narcissa. "Milord," she said brusquely. "How can I serve you?" Her expression was stolid, but Voldemort saw the fear in her eyes. He could see now that she was afraid of punishment for Lucius' failings.

But Voldemort did not wish to punish Narcissa or ant Malfoy. The prophecy was never his true objective and, in the end, he hardly cared to hear it now. "Narcissa, I have a unique task. You will speak of it to no one. Am I clear?" He stared at her, his eyes burning with power.

She flinched but barely. "Of course milord. What would you have me do?"

He handed her a specific set of coordinates. Her eyebrows shot to her forehead. Milord, are you…"

"No one can know what you're doing Narcissa," Voldemort said, cutting her off. "You will not approach anyone on the grounds. I only want to know what protections are in place. I will give you one week. If after one week you have not deduced all of the protections that are in place, return with what you have and we will make additional arrangements. I cannot stress the importance of this task Narcissa. I would go myself but I know new protections have been put in place to prevent me from approaching the grounds."

"I will not fail you milord," she said, bowing deeply. "Is there anything else?"

"No. Return to me in a week." The Malfoy matriarch bowed and withdrew. Voldemort turned around and stared over the grounds. He had hoped the Ministry would plod along like a drunken fool but it was not to be. He would have to accelerate some of his plans but it would not present too much difficulty.

He looked outside as a bolt of lightening cut across the sky and rain began to pour. _Soon Harry Potter, you will be mine. Soon, I will have my revenge and I alone will stand atop the world, the one true master of all magic. Soon._


	2. A New Alliance

_A/N: I do not own Harry Potter_

**A New Alliance**

Minevra McGonagall paced her office—her _new _office that is to say. She moved her things to the High Office the past evening but had hardly slept a wink. It had been a disturbingly quiet week in terms of the war against Voldemort. Amelia and Kingsley were making strides and felt confidant that many of the hidden Death Eaters and sympathizers had been removed from the Ministry. But, like McGonagall, they were surprised there was no violent upheaval. Many people simply vanished one day and never reappeared. Why would Voldemort not order an attack if he felt his remaining followers were being flushed out of hiding? Why not make a bid for the Ministry?

If there were any answers to be had, Snape would be the man to discover them. But not even he had been able to ascertain the true intentions of Voldemort's apparent surrender or his lack of other activity. He had left last evening for a meeting. McGonagall hoped he would return with some answers.

And it was not only concerns relative to the war that were on her mind. She had to prepare the school for Dumbledore's funeral, which would take place in two days. She also needed to retool the curriculum and find a new Defense professor. _And _she needed to at least determine a way to train Potter and more advanced applications of magic, defensive and offensive, light and dark. She knew he was a prodigious talent and there was great power raging inside him. But he would not be able to stand against Voldemort in a duel, let alone most of his Death Eaters. He escaped the Ministry with his friends most admirably but none of them took him seriously nor were they there to kill him. Both of those factors restrained how much effort they put into capturing him and his friends.

As she short-listed potential candidates for the Defense position, a bright ball of white light flew through her window and transformed into a beautiful doe in front of her desk.

_Five seconds after this patronus disappears, take cover under your desk _came the voice of Severus Snape and then the doe disappeared. McGonagall wasted no time diving under her desk. As she hid in relative darkness, fire burst to life and washed over her entire office, the noise deafening. But she did not feel the heat of the blast nor did the desk burn.

After fifteen seconds, the fire disappeared. McGonagall waited a few more seconds before emerging. As she pulled herself upright, Snape appeared, diving through the fire. "Stay that wand you blasted bitch," he bellowed, all the while making shushing motions. "Now…DAMN IT NO!" Snape waved his wand and the fireplace mantle exploded, blocking anyone from entering the office via the floo. For good measure he cast a number of wards over the rubble.

Then he turned and faced McGonagall. "I am sorry Minevra," he said. He wiped sweat off his brow and took a seat. "You may as well sit down. We don't have long but there is much I need to tell you."

"Severus, what was the meaning of all that," she asked.

"I suppose you may want to consider that my resignation," he said wearily. "The Dark Lord commanded me to kill you and assume control of Hogwarts."

McGonagall stared at him, eyebrows raised. "Why does he wish to kill me?"

"He wants Hogwarts," Snape said simply. "But he wanted you dead tonight. I tried to 'convince' him to let me stalk you, make the kill subtle and untraceable. He would have none of it. The fiendfyre was his and he thought it would open the door for me to attack you quickly and effortlessly."

"I assume he does not know you sent me the patronus."

Snape shook his head. "Of course not. But I knew the wards of the castle protected this room and it would keep you safe so long as you were not exposed. Now, we have maybe five more minutes before you and the other professors must chase me from the grounds."

McGonagall jerked her head, bewildered. "What are saying Severus?"

"You and the other professors must chase me from the grounds. After my failed assassination attempt, I daresay you would not wish to keep me on the staff." Snape got to his feet and paced I front of her desk. "But there is no time to explain this in more detail. Suffice it to say, I would never kill you but I must still remain in the good graces of the Dark Lord."

McGonagall nodded, understanding what he was saying. "I understand Severus. What is it you wish to tell me before we remove you from the grounds?"

"The Dark Lord removed his forces from the Ministry bloodlessly because he did not feel he could win a coup right now and wants to build his forces to take over a different objective."

"Hogwarts?"

Snape shook his head. "No, there is something else. I am not sure what location, but it is for a new headquarters. If I had to guess, he wants to take over Azkaban once and for all. With it under his control, he will not only free his own followers but it will be easy for him to convince the other criminals to join him in exchange for their freedom."

"That makes more sense than I wish it did," she said worriedly. "Do you have any idea when he plans to attack?"

"No, but it will be within two months. That is assuming it will be Azkaban. He will act sooner if it is something else, such a Slytherin's Keep or, for irony's sake, Riddle Manor. As I know more, I will tell you or someone in the Order."

"Fine. What other news do you bring?"

"Three tribes of Tibetan Yeti have migrated to Scotland. No one but his inner circle is aware of this mind you but it is a fact. He expects at least three more from the Canadian Rockies within the next week as well."

McGonagall's eyes widened. "He's bringing Yeti into this war." Then she thought about the beast. "That makes it more likely that he is thinking of attacking Azkaban. They are cold weather creatures, adept at storming island or mountain fortresses."

Snape nodded. "Yes they are, and that was the same fact that led me to believe he will attack Azkaban. But that is not all. Scabior has been traveling and returned for this meeting. He has been going around the world and putting out a message that Voldemort will offer sanctuary and bounties for criminals and assassins in England. There are already 200-300 foreign witches and wizards taking sanctuary in Malfoy Manor. Scabior expects 1000-1500 more will take the offer before the summer is over, which will make the situation here more perilous."

"So he is boosting his forces with foreign bounty hunters and creatures and, presumably, will soon make a bid to take over Azkaban, though there are other possible targets as well," she asked, recapping the finer points of his discussion. The Potions Master nodded. "Very well. Is there anything else?"

Snape shook his head. "No. I will return when I know more. Now, you need to send a distress patronus to the other professors and sound whatever alarms you need to so I can escape."

McGonagall frowned. "Severus, we do not need to make you a common enemy in the castle. The professors will keep the secret."

"But will the students," he asked sagely. "Do not worry about me Minevra. I have been hated before and I will not fret about it now. You can reveal the truth to the other professors if you wish, though I advise against that. But right now we must show that I am a criminal and you are taking strides to never let me in the castle again. Give me a thirty second head start and then have the others intercept me before I reach Gryffindor tower."

"Why Gryffindor tower? Severus, I do not wish to put students at risk."

"And we won't but Minevra, if I narrowly escaped you in a duel, I will know that the other professors will band together to capture me. What better option do I have than to kidnap a student, possibly Harry Potter? You will stop me of course, with the aid of the others. Then I will need to make my escape."

Snape looked at his watch. "We have taken too much time. Thirty seconds, than come intercept me." Snape raced out of the room and she heard him destroying the staircase and blasting the gargoyles out of the way. He was making a good show. She sent out a dozen patroni and then gave chase.

She reached the hallway leading to Gryffindor at the same moment as Professors Vector, Flitwick, and Burbage. Snape was dueling all three with effortless ease, even managing to send a number of curses at the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"You will do no murder here at Hogwarts," shouted Flitwick, charming suits of armor to attack Snape. The Potions Master cast fiendfyre, smelting the suits of armor and reforming them into daggers. The daggers spilt up and attacked a different professor. It was at this moment that Professors Babbling and Sprout appeared.

"You cannot stand against all of us Snape," Sprout shouted angrily, brandishing her wand.

"Perhaps not, but all of you cannot stand against me either. I am greater than any of you." He looked at McGonagall and sneered with a jerk of his head. "Your honor guard Headmistress. I may have not killed you before but I will now."

Snape waved his wand and a shroud of darkness consumed the hall. And for the second time this term, she felt others attacked while she was left unharmed. As the dark smoke cleared, she saw Snape standing in front of a classroom. "They will awake shortly, though they have been cursed with a spell that will slowly kill them." He threw McGonagall a vial of green-gray potion. "Sneak this into whatever potion Pomfrey gives them."

"How soon must they take the potion?"

"They will feel the effects within seconds of awaking but it will take a week to kill them. Still, I do not want their blood on my hands. This was an unfortunate part of the show and I trust you will give them the potion. The bottle is charmed to release the necessary amount each time you tip it. Now, we need to finish this duel."

He backed into the classroom as McGonagall sent a curse at him. He sent back a faux killing curse, which set a desk on fire in the classroom. Flitwick and Sprout pushed into the room and started firing curses at him. Snape cast several shield charms, scowling fearsomely. "This is not over," he ground out and then dissolved into a cloud of smoke and shot out the window.

"Come back you coward," McGonagall shouted, firing curses out the window. She found the shape of Snape reforming on the grounds just in front of the gates and then he was gone. She turned around and saw her colleagues leaning against desks or walls, all noticeably weaker. "We must get all of you to Poppy." She sent a patronus to the matron and conjured stretchers. Poppy arrived in time to help her push them to the hospital wing.

"What happened Minevra," she asked.

She had to make an effort to scowl. "Snape showed up in my office and tried to kill me. He failed but didn't know it. The others arrived and helped me run him off."

"Snape tried to murder you," she asked, her voice rising with each word. "But…but Dumbledore trusted him."

"Dumbledore, as events tonight proved, was wrong to do so. Now, please care for the professors Poppy." As Poppy turned around, McGongall cast the _confundus _charm on her while her back was turned. She caught the matron before she fell backwards and stood her up. "As part of your treatment, you will give them one does of this potion." She put the vial in her hand. "You will not ask how you came across this potion or why you are giving it. You will give each professor one dose."

Poppy nodded and then shook her head. "Sorry Minevra. Let's get the others to the wing."

"Yes Poppy."

* * *

><p>The following morning, the school was buzzing with the news of Snape's attempted murder of the Headmistress and how the other professors ran him out of the castle. The Slytherin table was glaring at the Gryffindors and McGonagall at different stages while the Gryffindors and most of the other students glared at the Slytherins.<p>

"Ladies and gentleman," she said, rising to her feet. "Before we eat this morning, I wish to tell you all about the events of last evening. Severus Snape, your former Potions professor, has been sacked." She frowned for effect as the Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs burst into applause and the Slytherin's booed. "Now, the decisions of Severus Snape prove that he had never truly repented his actions from the first war. But the decisions of one person do not reflect the actions or belief of this school or any of her students. As Albus Dumbledore said last year, it is time for all of you to decide between doing what is right and what is easy."

"And these events will not interfere with the arrangements for Albus Dumbledore's funeral this Saturday." She paused to wipe her eyes. "Albus Dumbledore's greatest love was educating young minds and he cared deeply for every student. It is only fitting that he will be buried on the grounds, an eternal guardian of the school he loved so much. Your parents have been notified and, while the proceedings are not mandatory, the leaving feast is set for Saturday evening and your parents and our distinguished guests are invited."

She took a seat, leaving the students to dissect what she had said. Her fellow professors ate in relative silence as well. She was immensely grateful that the potion Severus provided worked so quickly. She was not happy to confound Poppy but that seemed a safer course than somehow trying to tamper with her healing potions against her knowledge.

After the feast, the students had a free day. McGonagall returned to her office, followed by Flitwick and Sprout, the only other faculty members who were active members of the Order of the Phoenix. The three professors flooed to Grimmauld Place. The kitchen was nearly overflowing as the entire Order (except Snape) waited for them to arrive. McGonagall surveyed the room and noticed several new faces: Oliver Wood, Penelope Clearwater, Amos and Anita Diggory, Xenophilius Lovegood, and Fleur Delacour among others.

"It is good to see all of you," she began before several people interrupted her, all saying they were glad she was all right and what a damnable bastard Snape was. She raised her hands. "Please, give me a moment to explain. First and foremost, I ask that what I am about to tell you stay in this room." Everyone gave his or her assent.

"Thank you. Last night, Severus Snape was ordered by You-Know-Who to murder me and take control of Hogwarts." Several voices grumbled and swore but the others shushed them so she could continue. "As you all know, he was run from the castle after attempting to break in Gryffindor tower."

"What you do not know is that he never made an attempt on my life. He forewarned me of a pending attack of fiendfyre by Voldemort which was supposed to weaken me so he could kill me."

"Why the hell did he try to kill the other professors," demanded Moody. Several people shouted the same question.

"He had to keep appearances in case any students saw him. It was he who gave me the potion to cure you all after he attacked. You-Know-Who had to be convinced that Snape did all he could to kill me but failed. He needs to stay in his good graces so that he can continue to pass on insider information. He position is now far more dangerous because before he could claim knowledge on the Order but now he must show himself to be completely and fully behind You-Know-Who."

She looked around the room and saw that many were still not convinced. "If there is any remaining proof you need, ask yourself why, after casting a curse on every other professor, he not only left me unscathed but forewarned me of the attack."

"Now, I will not spend any more time discussing Severus Snape's motives. I continue to trust him and ask that you keep this information, whether you believe it or not, to yourselves. The next order of business is the intelligence he gave me."

"Three tribe of Tibetan Yeti have arrived in Scotland, presumably to join hands with the Yeti in the mountains in Scotland, and are awaiting orders from Voldemort. Snape could not tell me exactly how many Yeti but he did say Voldemort expected at least another three tribes from the Canadian Rockies to migrate over before the week is out."

"Why would Voldemort need so many Yeti," asked Remus. "They are a very isolated species and, so far as I know, have limited magical abilities."

"The Yeti are a powerful, agile, and nomadic species," answered Dedalus. "Their hides are generally impervious to magic, like giants, but they are warriors. As to why he would enlist so many, I can only imagine he hopes to use them as enforcers in 'regular' sieges and battles. Giants would be useful against targets such as Hogwarts because they can overpower wards with the ferocity of their attacks. Yeti would do well if you need to siege a mansion or island fortress."

McGonagall nodded. "Thank you Dedalus. And that brings me to the next point. Severus believes that You-Know-Who wants a new Headquarters. Given his new desire to recruit Yeti, and his current relationship with giants, he suspects You-Know-Who is targeting Azkaban."

"Even if he wanted to attack Azkaban, he would need more than Yeti and giants," said Kingsley. "He would need several hundred followers, followers he does not have or is not willing to spare. Even a success would diminish his numbers too greatly to make it possible to hold the fortress if he overtakes it."

"And that brings us to the final piece of intelligence he offered. Scabior has been traveling across the world and passing along word to the criminal world that Voldemort will offer them sanctuary and bounties if they work for him. All ready 200-300 foreigners are holed up in Malfoy Manor with another 1000-1500 expected by the end of summer."

"So he is recruiting rogue elements to bolster his army. This can be dangerous if the wrong kind take his offer," said Arthur.

"Why wouldn't they," interrupted Bill angrily. "And he doesn't even have to stop with criminals. If he can overtake Azkaban, he'll may gain enough legitimacy with rogue governments around the world and they may declare war on Britain and support his rebellion."

"Amelia is working closely with the Americans, French, and Russians to secure troops and aurors from their nations to join our fight," said Kingsley. "The Americans are sending 200 aurors and 500 combat soldiers by the end of July. They say they may send more but it will depend on how well we hold out. The French will send 200 aurors as well while the Russians will commit 1000 combat soldiers. The Russians won't commit aurors yet and the French don't have a standing army so they can't commit soldiers. And, provided we show positive results, other countries may provide aid as well."

"So by the end of July, if everything comes as expected, what is an estimate of our forces," McGonagall asked Kingsley.

He looked up, doing the math in his head. "We'll have 4000 combat soldiers under a joint allied command and an additional 700 aurors. These are fully trained men and women. When Amelia's draft law goes into effect in two weeks, we will fill ranks and have an army composed of two corps by the end of the year. We also expect to train a division of aurors in that same time. This will not include the troops we have from abroad."

"But we now we know Voldemort is doing the same and that means this war will be far worse than his first bid for power. If he can raise a force to match what we expect to raise, this will be a war on the scale of Grindelwald's. Amelia hoped to overwhelm him this time around with sheer numbers. It looks like he is preparing for that and hopes to do the same."

Everyone fell silent. Few were old enough to remember the war with Grindelwald. McGonagall was the oldest in the room by seven years and she was fourteen when that war broke out. That was a different type of war than what Voldemort waged twenty years ago. At the peak of his power, Grindelwald commanded a military machine of 1.5 million combat soldiers and 600000 aurors. It was a conventional war, albeit a terrifying one.

Voldemort never commanded such a large force, nor did he show any inclination of wishing to do so. He was a terrorist and guerilla leader, incredibly knowledgeable in the ways of the Dark Arts and extremely ruthless in his approach of psycho-warfare. If he was branching out into conventional warfare, Kingsley was more right than he knew. This war would be unlike anything the country had ever seen.

* * *

><p>Amelia Bones had only been minister for a little over a week. Had she known in advance the amount of paperwork that went into being Minister, she would never have applied for the position, much less taken it. That feeling wasn't entirely true of course because she had been Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. But if she had thought that position was tedious in the scope of paperwork, it was nothing compared to being Minister.<p>

Not that all the reports and briefings she read were tedious. Presently, she was reading a report from Julius Northcott, Head of the newly created weapons development unit in the Department of Mysteries. For all intents and purposes, WD was it's own department but Amelia knew, despite her best efforts, there were still Voldemort loyalists in the Ministry. Rather than risk a budget detailing WD developments falling into the wrong hands, she bundled their budget with the Department of Mysteries, which generally went unreported anyway because of the delicate nature of their experiments.

Northcott was perhaps one of the most brilliant engineers in the country. In addition to holding several commendations from the International Confederation of Wizards and numerous countries around the world, he went an unconventional route after Hogwarts: he earned advanced degrees in operational, electrical, and chemical engineering from Cambridge. When she created that department, he was a natural selection to lead it.

Apparently, his team had made strides in developing a new system of artillery based on muggle weaponry. There were several pictures in the report of different cannon along with descriptions of the device and how his team was repurposing it for magical warfare. One picture in particular caught her attention. It sat very low to the ground with a long, narrow rube connected to a rectangular casing. There was a handle on the back of the rectangle. She read the description, fascinated.

_This is a .50 caliber M2 machine gun, one of the most popular designs in the muggle world. What you may not see is that the muggles load a magazine of ammunition—what they call bullets—into the chamber or feed in a belt of ammunition. I won't go into detail about the differences of direct impingement versus gas pistons. Suffice it to say, the former is much easier to handle and, because there is less interference, it can be manipulated and used to fire magazines of magical ammunition. The issue we are encountering is creating a magical magazine. But if we can crack that code, this will give one witch or wizard the firepower of ten._

Amelia let out an impressed breath. That would be something if they could perfect the magazine, whatever that was. She jotted down a note with a few questions about the machine gun and several pieces of the artillery. There were a few designs she thought were silly or repeats of others, based on his descriptions and how she envisioned them being used in battle. But there were a few she thought were potentially valuable.

"Percy," she shouted after she finished her notes. Percy entered her office and bowed stiffly.

"What can I do for you Minister?"

She folded the parchment and waved her wand over it for added protection. "Take this down to the Circle, quick as you can." Percy took the parchment, nodded and left. She watched him. _He has all the warmth of a rock _she thought. How he could come from a family like Weasleys was beyond her.

She spent the next fifteen minutes looking over other reports. Kingsley and Dirk had found a wonderful location for basic training for the draftees when her law was implemented. There was not a lot of open land in the country, as the Ministry was forced to deal with during the Quidditch World Cup. However, the new basic training facility for the army would be established in northeastern Richmondshire. There are a number of villas and manors in the district but that is predominately in central and western Richmondshire. They would locate the facility in the plains.

Now that they had a suitable place to build, they would need to begin construction as soon as possible. But she wanted further assistance before breaking ground. "Percy," she shouted again. "When is Ambassador Hadrod due to arrive," she asked after he closed the door.

"The goblins are still deliberating whether or not to assist the Ministry ma'am," he said stiffly. "I'm not sure…"

"No, that is not going to do at all," she said, cutting across him. She walked over to her fire, threw in a pinch of powder, and called out "Administer Griphook's office." Thankfully Griphook was at his desk. He looked bemused as her head came into being in his fire.

"Good morning Minister. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" There was a slight trace of ironic amusement in his voice but only a trace. Amelia greatly respected Griphook because he was, while incredibly loyal to his race and heritage, progressive in the ways goblins can advance society and within society. She preferred working with him generally. He was not in a position to guarantee anything but he held influence over those who could make things happen.

"Griphook, can I take a moment of your time?"

"Of course Minister."

She pulled her head out of the fire. "Percy, anyone besides Dirk, Kingsley, Alastor, or Professor McGonagall, who needs to see me will have to wait. If it is any of those four, please ask that they send a patronus to Gringotts." The boy nodded and left, after which she stepped into the fire and appeared in Griphook's office.

She half-nodded, half-bowed to Griphook. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I know how valuable your time is."

Griphook waved that away. "Minister, you can dispense with that nonsense. My time is no more valuable than yours." He leaned forward and gave her a conspiratorial wink. "I daresay I know why you wish to see me on such short notice as well. Your disappointed because his Excellency has not responded to your invitations." He leaned back and looked sly. "And what is it you think I can do for you?"

"Griphook, the Head of the DMLE and the Head of the Aurors…"

"I know that Dirk and Kingsley have secured a site on which you will build what I am sure will be a state-of-the-art training facility for when your draft law goes into effect. Dirk approached me and several others to help expedite the transaction." He pointed at a deed on his desk and it was indeed for the same plot that Dirk told her about.

She looked at him shrewdly. "Then surely you must know why I am here now," she said slowly.

Griphook smiled. Clearly he was enjoying himself. "Whatever do you mean Minister," he asked gently.

Amelia sighed but the lips of her mouth twitched upwards. This was a process and she understood as much as anyone that she needed to play the game before she could speak with Ragnuk II. "Griphook, I am here because I need the assistance of the goblin nation. More than that, the people of the United Kingdom need your assistance."

He leaned forward, bemusement gone and no form of expression on his face. "You understand that the goblin nation will not do anything, at present, that may draw us into a war between humans. We did not take part in Grindelwald's war nor did we take part in Voldemort's first push for power. We offer services to any who need our services, without prejudice."

"It is one of the most admirable traits of your people," she said. "But your people lost lives during his first bid for power. In his heart, he does not respect the goblins as…"

"Please do not infer that your people respect us either," he countered quickly, though with no malice. He was simply stating facts. "You people consider us beasts, creatures…_part-humans_." He sneered at that last description.

Amelia nodded. "I cannot deny that there are people among us who believe such things. I do not personally, as you know."

"I understand that Minister. But, however influential you may be, you are still one person and cannot change the hearts and minds of an entire generation of people. If things are not going to change, why should we continue to back a regime that, at best, does not represent equality across all levels and for all creatures."

"Regrettable though circumstances are—and I stand forthright beside you in acknowledging such injustice—it is also not something that can be changed overnight." She watched Griphook carefully for any signs of reaction, but he showed none. "What can my government do to show that we are taking steps in the right direction?"

Griphook smiled. "My dear Minister, do you understand the magnitude of what you just said? This may spell the end of your administration."

She shrugged her shoulders. "It is possible but that is a risk I am willing to take." She raised a finger. "But that does not change the fact that, whether I am Minister or not, this must take place slowly and through legislation that is not potentially inflammatory. I said it will not happen overnight but we can certainly begin the process now."

"And what would you propose now?"

"That depends on how much your nation is willing to help defeat Voldemort and how quickly," she countered. "If I am to take steps to advance the cause of your people in particular and creatures with humanoid characteristics in general, I must have a show of support from your people or else it will not be received by the Wizengamot."

Griphook gave her a piercing look but then smiled. "If you would Minister, please follow me." He jumped down from his chair and opened his office door with a wave of his hand.

"Where are we going," she asked, genuinely confused.

"There is a reason Hadrod has not met with you yet. His Excellency needed confirmation that it was in his interest to see you. Suffice it to say; now he has that confirmation. Please follow me now. His Excellency will explain more to you personally."

Amelia followed Griphook through several halls and past several offices. She had never ventured this deeply into Gringotts and could see how it would be easy to get lost without an escort. After five minutes, they came to a door no different than any of the others. Griphook knocked three times and then stepped back.

"Enter," called a raspy voice from within. Griphook held the door open and waved in Amelia. "Ah, I see she impressed you Griphook," said the elderly, wizened goblin with a small smile.

Griphook bowed. "She did your Excellency." He smiled at Amelia. "Of course, I have handled her family affairs for decades. She is simply the latest in a long number of respectable witches and wizards."

"Thank you Griphook," she said, touched by his kind words. Then she bowed to Ragnuk II. "Thank you for seeing me your Excellency."

"Please take a seat Minister. I trust there is much you wish to discuss. Griphook, please leave us. I will summon you when we have concluded our business."

Griphook bowed. "By your leave your Excellency."

Ragnuk II gave her a piercing look, not unlike the one Griphook gave her a moment ago. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit Minister?"

Amelia paused, considering her approach. Clearly he knew why she was here or else Griphook would never have escorted her. But she had never spoken with this goblin before and did not wish to offend him because he was a person of considerable influence.

"If I may Minister," he said, jarring her from her thoughts. "Please speak freely. I am not going to attack you if you say something I do not wish to hear." He spoke lightly and with good humor, but she sensed anger beneath the surface. Not with her personally, but about his joke.

"Forgive me your Excellency…"

"Call me Ragnuk," he said easily.

"Forgive me…Ragnuk. I am not sure how much you know of the situation my people find themselves in but we are at war with Lord Voldemort once again. I fear he is expanding his army this time around and the war we fight will be more terrible than the one we fought twenty years ago."

"I met Lord Voldemort, many decades ago before he adopted his chosen moniker. He was only eleven but even then there was a darkness raging inside him that I had never encountered before, even when I sat before Rasputin. Diagon Alley fascinated him and, though he had no account with us, he came to explore. Until he realized the influence we held, he was crude and uncouth."

Ragnuk shook his head. "I apologize. My mind tends to wander. I understand that your people will soon be at war with Voldemort's. What I do not understand is what you expect my people and I to do. We do not wish to involve ourselves with the affairs of witches and wizards, especially with your wars."

"I understand. But if Voldemort were to take over the government I lead, he will target you next."

Ragnuk stared at her and for a moment she feared she had been too direct. But he nodded. "I am sure he will. But if we do not involve ourselves, remain neutral as we did before, and your side wins, life will return to what it is now."

She sensed he pitched her this situation for a reason and she pounced. "But is that what you want?"

He leaned back, looking at the ceiling contemplatively. "It is not ideal no, but it is better than seeing goblin warriors dying on the field of battle for a war in which we have such a limited interest and from which we can expect so little in the way of social or political change."

"What can my government do to earn your trust and your support?"

Ragnuk returned his gaze to her and stared at her for a few seconds before asking. "I have heard such questions before," he said slowly. "Promises are always forthcoming but never come to fruition."

"As I told Griphook, if you desire the moon, I cannot deliver. But if we can work together and implement change slowly, then we may get to a point where we can help one another."

"Is it fair that my people sacrifice so much in the here and now while you hold off your promises until some time in the distant future. For all I know, you may perish in this conflict and where will that leave my people. Or worse, Voldemort may win, despite ours support. That will be akin to committing suicide for my people."

"Then we work together, take baby steps together. We each start small and build towards something more. I can be patient."

He looked back at the ceiling, eyes closed. "That is an interesting suggestion Minister. And what would you wish my people to do for you now to show support? And what, in return, would you be willing to do?"

"My first request would be to help with the magical protection of government buildings and the homes of certain individuals. Your magic is relatively unknown to Voldemort and, because you are not pure bloods, he does not appreciate it anyway. Supplement the protections we have with your own magic and that will greatly help our war effort. I ask this as a show of faith. Then, if we prove ourselves capable, we can speak of further assistance."

"And what will you do for my people if we assist with the protection of your buildings and outposts?"

"I will appeal Law 15 of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I trust you are familiar with Law 15."

Ragnuk looked at her and she was pleased to see some measure of surprise in his eyes. "That is one of the foulest laws your people have passed," he said. "That is a tall task. Why should I believe you could repeal that legislation?"

"There are several factors that would allow me to repeal that law. First, the author is currently disgraced and has been removed from Hogwarts and the Ministry, permanently."

"You speak of that wretched Umbridge woman?"

Amelia nodded. "I do. If for no other reason than to distance themselves from her legacy, many will vote to repeal the law. Most importantly though, Voldemort is recruiting heavily among several communities of magical creatures, many that are not inherently dark but believe Voldemort is their path to equality. Repealing that Law 15 will open the door for negotiation with other communities." She eyed Ragnuk. "Perhaps even your Excellency would help us negotiate with other communities of magical creatures if Law 15 is repealed."

"You understand all that repealing Law 15 would entail?"

"I do."

"You would grant all humanoid creatures basic human rights. They would not be on the same level as humans in the eyes of the law but they would be at least be assured basic human rights."

"I understand."

"Several smaller pieces of legislation, such as _The Preferential Employment of Witches and Wizards with Reference to Dangerous Creatures_, would also be repealed because they are tied to Law 15."

"I understand. I do not find werewolves or vampires to be any less capable of gainful employment than any other class of people. The same holds true for goblins, merpeople, and people with giant blood."

Ragnuk sat quietly, looking at her with surprised respect. Finally, he leaned forward. "If you can repeal Law 15, I will offer my services personally as ambassador to different communities on behalf of the Ministry against Voldemort. I will also place under your employ for the duration of the war 15 of my most accomplished ward and rune specialists to assist in magical protection. But this is only if you can repeal Law 15 in its entirety."

Amelia extended her hand. "I will accept those terms your Excellency."

Ragnuk looked at her hand and then shook it. "Good luck Minister."

* * *

><p>After returning from her meeting, Amelia returned to work on different briefings and signing pieces of legislation that came to her desk from the Wizengamot and other departments. All the while, she was deliberating how to push through a piece of legislation repealing Law 15. Despite the confidence she showed to Ragnuk, that could prove a tricky beast.<p>

She was realized she was reading the same report for the sixth time when a possible solution came into her office.

"Minister."

She looked up. "Yes Percy."

"Professor McGonagall has sent you a note. She wishes to let you know that the funeral for Professor Dumbledore will be held this Saturday at 10:00 am. There will be a feast held after the ceremony for students and guests before everyone will be sent home for the summer."

"Please tell Minevra that I will accept the invitation and will send her a note of the Ministry officials who will wish to attend by Friday morning."

Percy bowed. "Yes Minister. Is there anything else you would be requiring?"

"No, thank you." She returned to her report as the boy left and managed to finish it but she really didn't retain anything. She was thinking about Dumbledore's funeral. He was truly a great man. He had been the first on the scene when her brother and sister-in-law were murdered and rescued Susan. She often wondered if he had accepted the position of Minister, how much good he could've have done for the country.

_He always favored giving people a chance, no matter who they were or what their background was. That was one of the things that drew people to him, and also what caused people to distance themselves from him. _

Then it came to her. She would conjure Dumbledore's image to help repeal Law 15. Dumbledore, as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot in 1993, tried valiantly to repeal Law 15 shortly after Umbridge rammed through _The Preferential Employment of Witches and Wizards with Reference to Dangerous Creatures _after Dumbledore hired Lupin. He failed but he gathered a significant amount of support. While she hated using his death is such a way, his image would be one to conjure with in order to finally repeal Law 15.

She wrote a private note to Wilbert Dowling, requesting a meeting for later this evening. With luck, by Friday they could repeal Law 15 and the first place she would have Ragnuk help bolster the defenses would be Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, in case Voldemort decided to disrupt the funeral.

* * *

><p>Narcissa Malfoy peered through the plains surrounding the coordinates the Dark Lord gave her. It was a desolate patch of earth, miles from any semblance of society, magical or muggle. While she understood the significance of this place, understood the moment he handed her the parchment, she still did not fully understand why he needed knowledge of this place.<p>

She had been here for four days and felt she had gathered as much intelligence as she could. The wards protecting this place were some of the most complex she had ever encountered, and that included those protecting Hogwarts. Located throughout the plains, on rocks or trees, were extensive rune patterns that served to bolster the strength of the wards or give them different features. She didn't understand many of the patterns, which concerned her because she considered herself a connoisseur of runes.

But she took meticulous notes and diagrams so the Dark Lord could study them and possibly decipher their meaning.

On the fifth evening, she was taking one last survey of the land, making sure there was nothing she had missed as well as making sure there was no traces of her presence. Satisfied no one would know her involvement, she was preparing to walk back to the village and take the portkey back to Malfoy manor when she heard several distant _pops_. Disillusioning herself and silencing herself, she crept towards the source of the noise and found about a dozen witches and wizards standing in front of a tree she knew was carved with runes. She tried to make out whom they were but she couldn't see in the darkness.

As she crept closer, careful to stay hidden behind trees in case any had cast charms to see through her protections, she heard their conversation.

"…wrong with the runes I 'spose. It isn't working." The voice sounded slightly lower class but that wasn't enough to identify a possible suspect save that it was a man.

"He said the magic might not allow us to pass," came a second voice, younger and very tired but also masculine. "We may need assistance."

"It may be difficult to get information out of her…what was that?"

Narcissa mentally slapped herself. She had tried to lean closer to see the crowd but when she recognized the third voice as Alastor Moody, she backtracked and walked over a stick, cracking it in two. Moody must have had boosted his hearing.

She stayed hidden behind the tree, slowly walking backward, doing all she could to keep it between her and her foes. She knew though that they were advancing, slowly but surely. Then she sensed the stunner that nearly toppled her. She dived to the ground and heard Moody bellow for them to grab her.

Abandoning all pretenses of secrecy, she jumped to her feet and started running at full sprint towards a village she knew to lay to the east. All the while, she tried desperately to activate the portkey that would return her to Malfoy manor. Thankfully, except for a few curses that she knew to be from Moody, none of the others could see her and so their spells went off the mark. This saved her the time of casting shield charms and instead focus on running.

Finally, after running nearly a mile, she felt a wrench around her naval and saw a vortex of color. She landed unceremoniously in a heap in the room the Dark Lord had commandeered for his office. A rough set of hands helped her to her feet gently. "Thank you," she said.

"My pleasure," answered a soft, Virginian accent. Narcissa was about to curse the intruder but then she remembered that it was one of the foreigners the Dark Lord had recruited.

"Robert, take the others and leave. I will speak with you later," ordered the high, cold voice of Lord Voldemort. Narcissa saw the man who helped her to her feet (Robert) hold the door for two other wizards and four witches. The looked like a crew of wealthy investors. Given the criminals that had flooded the manor during the time she was gone according to Draco and the appearance of Robert and his fellows, they were con artists.

Then she realized she was in the presence of the Dark Lord and dropped to her knee. "Milord," she said obsequiously, not wishing to anger him.

"Rise Narcissa." He looked at her, his eyes burning like bright embers. She made little effort to block him from her mind. She was fully aware her Occlumency was nothing beside his Legilimency. "What news do you bring," he asked easily.

Narcissa opened her haversack and pulled out several rolls of parchment and handed them to the Dark Lord. "Milord, I spent the past five days studying every stone and tree within a two mile radius of the coordinates you gave me. Unfortunately, I could not even see the building, which is not unexpected but would've given a good point of reference."

"Anyway, if you look at this map," she waved her wand and the correct piece of parchment unfurled in front of him. "You can see where I marked every stone, tree, and even occasional animal where there are runes. The protections surrounding this place are more complex than any I have ever encountered, including Hogwarts. I will say that Hogwarts protections are more powerful but these…these are incredibly tough to read."

The Dark Lord unrolled the key to the map she gave him, which outlined each rune pattern on each point of the map. He spent two minutes looking over the information. "These are unfamiliar to me as well," he said. His eyes burned, his ignorance clearly personally upsetting. "I will have Rookwood commence studies into these patterns immediately. I expect you to help as well."

Narcissa bowed. "Of course Milord. There is more Milord. I encountered resistance this evening." Voldemort did not move so Narcissa continued. "It appears that the Order has made it a priority to infiltrate that place. I did not hear much until Alastor Moody recognized me but apparently they have alternative sources of information to help bypass the protections."

"Is that all you heard?"

Narcissa shook her head. "No Milord. It seems someone—I assume it to be Albus Dumbledore—made it impossible for anyone to bypass the wards. However, as I said, they did speak of an alternative source of information: a woman that I gather."

"And the Order knows who this person is?"

"It seems that way, though one of them did speak as if it would be difficult to get the information from her. Do you have an idea who they might be speaking about Milord?"

He did not answer, looking at his desk, deep in thought. "This proves that I am correct and there is further information to be had." Narcissa suspected he was talking to himself and made every effort to not even move. He continued talking to himself but quicker and quieter. She could not follow.

Then abruptly he looked up at her. "Narcissa. I want you to take these notes to Rookwood and commence studies. I do not want either of you to rest until you have unraveled the mysteries of these wards. I will interrogate the more intelligent of the foreigners and send some of them to assist you. After we have concluded our studies, you may dispose of them. Are my instructions in anyway unclear?"

Narcissa quickly shook her head. "No Milord. I will begin immediately." She waved her wand and all of her notes and maps returned to her haversack.

* * *

><p>Two days later, Narcissa and Rookwood had made no real strides in identifying the runes patterns Narcissa discovered. Three South African ward curse breakers and a Japanese ward specialist were working with them but so far the only thing they knew for certain is that the wards used are based on a language distantly, and then only slightly, on the western Baltic languages and dialects.<p>

"What did whoever put up these wards want to protect so fiercely," bemoaned Jimmu, their Japanese partner. This was not the first time he complained about what they were doing and it was taxing on Narcissa's nerves.

Apparently, Rookwood did not appreciate his constant complaining either. He snarled at the man. "It does not concern you what is protected. All that matters is the Dark Lord wishes to remove the protections. Do not question his wishes."

Jimmu looked at him, disgust etched on every line of his face as he scowled at Rookwood. "Forgive me my friend," he said with a sneer. "But I am not eternally loyal to Lord Voldemort as you appear to be. I am here for the money. Were he not paying me exceptionally well, I would not put up with your nonsense."

Rookwood raised his hand, sending Jimmu flying backward in a heap. He grabbed his wand just before a counter curse ripped across the room. "You do not deserve to speak Milord's name you piece of foreign filth. He is a greater, more powerful wizard than you could ever hope to be." Rookwood dropped into a dueling stance. "Shall I show you a taste of the spells he taught to me and his most loyal Death Eaters?"

Before the Japanese man could retort—or commence with a duel—Narcissa stepped between them. "Augustus, the Dark Lord will not appreciate if you kill our new allies. And you Jimmu, would do well to remember that you are getting paid to work, not complain. If you have any disagreements with that arrangement, I assure you that the Dark Lord would be more than happy to speak with you personally." Jimmu looked mutinous but lowered his wand and returned to his work. Narcissa was not surprised.

"My comrades," called out one of the African curse breakers Nero. "My comrades, I have discovered something."

Narcissa and Rookwood walked over to his table. "What is it," she asked, trying to decipher his notes in advance.

"There is a reason the runes are difficult to translate, beyond the linguistic differences," he said. He wrote out one of the rune patterns from Narcissa's map in the air with his wand. "This is the original."

"It is," said Rookwood curtly. "What of it?"

Nero smiled, showing three gold front teeth. "In this form, they mean nothing." He conjured a mirror behind them. "Look at the runes in the mirror."

Narcissa looked at the runes hovering in the mirror, which were now reversed. But then she looked closer. "These look Norwegian, at least very slightly." She mouthed the syllables as they would read in the Norwegian language. "They read 'mørke inneholdt' or darkness contained. But this is a stretch. The characters are unlike other Norwegian runes I studied for my NEWTs, and there seem to be subtle distinctions in syllable structure."

"There are," Rookwood agreed. "But this is a point of reference." He looked around at the others. "Do any of these characters look familiar to you," he demanded.

Jimmu stood mute but the three Africans talked amongst themselves, perhaps deliberating how best to explain themselves. None of them were fluent in English. Nero spoke the best but there were gaps in his abilities.

"We do not recognize these runic symbols. But we have used a practice before of using dead or dying languages to define out runic characters. I suspect this is what is happening here."

Narcissa looked at the runes again, and their reflections. She ran through five in quick succession, translating them into Norwegian. As was the case with the first, they could be translated but the syllable structure was too unique to be an exact translation. "I think Nero is right," she said. "But if that is the case, we still do not have the ability to translate these fully because, unless one of you is an expert in Norwegian linguistics."

"We may not be," said Rookwood. "But I have an old friend from my days in the Department of Mysteries. He lived much of his life teaching in Sweden, Finland, and Norway. He is not an expert in runes but he may be able to identify symbols if we translate these to the current dialect."

"Will he help," Nero asked.

Rookwood smiled nastily. "I won't give him a choice."


	3. Staff Openings

_A/N: I do not own Harry Potter_

**Special Note: I never agreed with the notion of Dumbledore being able to swoop in, despite Sirius being alive and without having faced a proper trial, and take Harry to the Dursley's hours after James and Lily were murdered. In this chapter, I explain my version of how Harry came to reside with the Dursley's.**

**Staff Openings  
><strong>

Harry sat alone atop the astronomy tower, looking over the east grounds and the mountains in the distance. It was clear morning, though it was a little chilly. The sun was just starting to rise, the glimmer of yellow and gold light just barely shining over the horizon and casting shadows on the mountains.

He had made a habit of coming here every morning since that meeting with Professor McGonagall, where he found out that he had been a marked man since before he was born. A couple of days ago, he would grow steadily angry, condemning Dumbledore for keeping him in the dark for so long. Eventually it became so much that he forced his way into McGonagall's office unannounced (luckily she was not in the office, which he reflected on after his stupid stunt) and confronted Dumbledore.

* * *

><p><em>Harry stormed his way through the halls leading to McGonagall's office, his blood boiling. Given the beautiful day and the fact that hundreds of people had come to the castle for Dumbledore's funeral, he was fortunate not to run into anyone.<em>

_The gargoyle did not hesitate to let him pass and Harry waited impatiently as the stairs rose to the office door. When it arrived, he slammed the door open, completely unconcerned that McGonagall may be in the office. His eyes sought out Dumbledore's, who was watching him sadly._

"_Good morning Harry," he said, with a failed attempt at brevity. "What can I do for you this morning?"_

_Harry fought the urge to start upending tables and throwing things. He was angry but it wouldn't be smart to throw a tantrum. Instead, he asked Dumbledore the one question that had burning inside him each night since McGonagall revealed to him the prophecy:_

"_Why didn't you ever tell me anything?"_

_Dumbledore did not slump, slag, or show any sign of weakness or what he was feeling, for which Harry was grateful._

"_Harry, prior to your parent's murder, they crafted a will leaving you to Sirius in the event anything was to happen to them. As your godfather, he would be the best person to raise you. Unfortunately, when he heard that James and Lily were dead, he sought out Peter and unknowingly placed himself in a situation where he would be arrested and imprisoned. Your parent's will could not, in practice, be fulfilled. But there were still Death Eaters in the Ministry in positions of power. One was Augustus Rookwood."_

"_Rookwood had not yet been investigated and was a very influential person. In the immediate aftermath of your parent's murder, he theorized that, by law, you were still a dependent of Sirius and that his arrest could not change that. Because of the situation, you would need to be raised by the next oldest member of the Black family, until such a time that Sirius could be tried and released. In this instance, you would be raised by Bellatrix Lestrange."_

_Harry shook his head in disbelief. "That crazy bitch! How is that possible?"_

"_There is an obscure law from several hundred years ago that was enacted to ensure that in the event that parents of a noble family perish and they person to whom they leave the child is determined to be unfit to raise the child, he or she shall become the dependent of the family of the original guardian. In those times, the objective was to ensure that the child remained in the care of a magical family and that magical contracts, including marriage and property contracts were upheld. It is an outdated law but still in effect, so Rookwood was not proposing anything illegal. He was simply ensuring that you would perish."_

"_I could not allow you to come into the 'care' of dear Bellatrix. At the same time, I could not spirit you away without causing a host of legal problems. But then, three short days after your parent's death, Bellatrix was captured for the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom. Rookwood was also betrayed by Karkaroff, giving me the opportunity to place you in the…__**relative **__safety of your aunt and uncle."_

_Harry shook his head. They had reached the part that upset him more than any other. "How could you leave me with those monsters," Harry raged. "For ten years I was subjected to abuse, neglect, and outright torture."_

"_I placed you there because I was afraid of the danger you would be in if placed with another family, even a magical family. Even if I ignored the possibility that Voldemort would one day return, which I could not ignore because I did not truly believe him to be dead, his followers are equally dangerous. Suppose I placed you in the care of the Weasley's full time and protected them with the Fidelius Charm. There are spells and enchantments that can eventually break the Fidelius, assuming that the Weasley's secret keeper was not compromised. After all, what would stop Lucius from attacking Arthur or Death Eaters arranging a time to capture Molly, the two likeliest secret keepers?"_

_Dumbledore shook his head. "No, I was not willing to put not only you at risk but also the people who would care for you. The only protection that would keep you safe was the use of your mother's blood through a ward around her sister. Not even Voldemort could counter such a ward. It would ensure your safety, again relatively speaking."_

_Dumbledore paused and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I fully expected that you would not be treated with as much compassion as a young boy should. However, I never imagined she would stand by and allow her husband and son to physically abuse you. It was my shame of such a revelation that kept me from admitting my failure to the other professors. I had other members of the Order monitor you, ensure that you were at least kept alive. You may not have been aware of it, but Mrs. Figg laced her tea with potions designed to improve your resistance to pain and improve your strength."_

"_She reviled me for allowing you to continue living in that home," he said dejectedly. "But I did not know what to do. If I removed you from that house, I would've had to spirit you to Hogwarts. News would've quickly spread and there are too many people who could've had access to you that could've brought you harm if I brought you here. Plus, I am a horrible guardian."_

_Harry was taken aback by the infinite bitterness that laced Dumbledore's voice at that last statement. But before he could question the headmaster, he continued._

"_I was afraid of what would happen if you were left in my care. My sister and brother were once dependent on me, or at least my sister was. Aberforth could've survived without me. I hated having that responsibility, chafed at being restrained in such a way." He paused again, and even from the distance between the portrait and the desk, Harry saw an infinite sadness in his eyes. "And I vowed from that day forward that I would never care for someone in such a way. I am an older man now, but I am no more capable of being a guardian than I was in my youth. At least, this is what I told myself as you endured an awful childhood."_

_Dumbledore paused to wipe angrily at his eyes. "You arrived at Hogwarts, in as good condition as can be expected in such circumstances. But I did not want to approach you, did not want to burden you with information that you would not understand. At least this is what I told myself. I settled to watching you from afar, combatting Voldemort and Quirrell, the spirit of Tom from the diary, rescuing Sirius, and returning from the graveyard. I tried to avoid giving you guidance when I could. Again, another of my mistakes."_

_Harry was taken aback as Dumbledore continued to become more hysterical. He had clearly been sitting on these feelings for years and needed to open up. While Harry was angry at most of his revelations, he could not bring himself to stop Dumbledore._

"_But you showed how truly capable a person you are at every turn. I was so entrenched in my foolish notions that I never prepared you for the prophecy, for your destiny, at least with regards to Voldemort. I was too afraid to get close to you, to come to care for you because I 'knew' that it would lead to your demise. I was a fool, and in the end I came to care for you as deeply as I cared for Ariana and Aberforth. When I saw Bellatrix advancing upon you, I could only think of saving you." _

_Dumbledore fell silent, tears falling from his eyes. "I am so sorry Harry. I admit that I was not the best surrogate guardian and that I am most responsible for the suffering you endured as a child. But that is why I have submitted a list to Minevra of several people I have worked with over the years, men and women who can help prepare you for the trials you are going to face to defeat Voldemort." _

* * *

><p>Harry rapped his knuckles on the hard stone of the tower. He did not forgive Dumbledore completely for essentially abandoning him to the Dursley's but given what could've happened and how he could have ended up in Bellatrix's mercy, he understood why he did what he did.<p>

Alone in his thoughts, Harry didn't see the owl coming to land until it was practically right on top on him. The owl was a majestic bird, and his first thought was it came from the Ministry. Then he noticed the letter it delivered was stamped with the seal for Gringotts.

Confused why the goblin bank would be writing him, he took the envelope from the owl and read the note, which was fairly short.

Griphook, who Harry didn't realize was the financial advisor/accountant for his family, requested a meeting tomorrow morning at five to go over the state of his affairs as well as his holdings as head of the Potter family, as well as his inheritance from Sirius. Griphook also informed him that the Minister would be escorting him after his appointment was completed to the Ministry. He didn't explain what Madam Bones required but that she would explain when she saw him tomorrow.

Slightly bewildered, Harry folded the letter and put it in his pocket. Even though term was over, several hundred people had come to Hogsmeade for Dumbledore's funeral, which would take place in two days. The overwhelming majority of the school was staying behind and then traveling home aboard the train or with their families. Of the people who left already, most were Slytherins.

After one last look of the grounds, Harry walked down the stairs and took a long path to Professor McGonagall's office. Still, sooner than he expected, he found himself before the gargoyle guarding the door.

"Password," it asked imperiously.

"I don't know the new password," Harry said honestly. He was willing to bet McGonagall also wouldn't use a candy as his password either.

"No entry without the proper password," the gargoyle said lazily.

"Selina," called a crisp voice over Harry's shoulder. "What can I do for you Mr. Potter," she asked as she beckoned him onto the stairs.

"Griphook sent me a letter requesting that I see him tomorrow at five in the morning. Madam Bones will meet me there at two to escort me to the Ministry."

"Ah, Griphook has agreed to see you so soon." She sounded very pleased.

"Did you know he wanted to see me?"

"Because you are the last remaining Potter, when you turn sixteen, you will be emancipated. As head of your family, Griphook will need to brief you on the state of your finances, as well as any investments he has maintained and properties that your family holds. The Minister and I also feel it is prudent that he perform a full evaluation of your genealogy and abilities."

Harry blinked, slightly confused. "What do you mean I am head of my family? And if I am emancipated, does that mean I am an adult?"

The Headmistress nodded briskly and motioned for him to take a seat. "While the title of 'Head' is relatively outdated, it is still a position of authority in the government. In the Wizengamot, the Potter seat has been vacant since you defeated the Dark Lord. When you turn sixteen, you will have to fill the seat."

"Do you mean I have to sit on the Wizengamot," Harry asked, mostly with anger as he remembered his experience before the Wizengamot during his trial. But he was also overwhelmed at the prospect of sitting in the government.

"No Mr. Potter, you will not be required to sit on the Wizengamot. Most families appoint someone they trust to sit on the council in their stead and vote on their behalf. However, you must monitor their voting record because it has happened that the men and women who are appointed vote as they wish and not as you would wish."

"What do I need to tomorrow with the Minister," Harry asked, deciding he would wait until tomorrow to learn more about his responsibilities as a head of his family.

The Headmistress shrugged. "I am not sure to be honest. She and I have only spoken about your genealogy and abilities evaluation, which will be conducted at Gringotts. I can find out if you wish."

Harry thought about that and shook his head. "No, I will wait until tomorrow. If you don't mind Professor, I'd like to check on Hermione." Harry left as McGonagall showed no signs of stopping him.

* * *

><p>Minevra McGonagall watched Harry leave her office. She was eager to find out the results of his abilities evaluation because she wanted to develop a training regimen for him before he left for the summer. She smiled widely too as she thought of the expression on his face when he was told that, because he was emancipated, he would be free of those wretched Dursley's. The ward Dumbledore put up would collapse once he was recognized as a legal adult.<p>

But today she had a number of appointments concerning the openings that she had on staff. With Severus gone, she would need a new potions professor and since she was Headmistress, she would need to hire her successor. There was also the annual opening of Defense Against the Dark Arts. She already had sent owls to the candidates she wished to have fill each position and hoped that after meeting with each of them today, she could fill two days after Dumbledore's funeral.

Donning her traveling cloak, she tapped one of the silver instruments on the side table three times with her wand. With the ward temporarily disabled, Minevra turned on her heel and disappeared with a _crack_.

She reappeared in a quaint little neighborhood outside of Brussels. It was one of the oldest magical communities in Belgium. As it was still early morning, the streets were relatively sparse with a few shopkeepers opening their doors early. No one paid her much attention as she navigated through the village, heading east towards one of stretch of small cottages that webbed off the village. She sought the second house on the left, pausing briefly to rest her hand on a small knob on the gate about waist high. It warmed considerably under her hand and she felt a slight pull from her naval as the ward worked to recognize her magical signature.

"Minevra," called a warm voice she hadn't heard in twenty years.

"Hera," Minevra replied warmly, enveloping the woman in a powerful hug. After their embrace, she extended her arms. "You haven't aged a bit since I last saw you."

Hera scoffed. "Please child. Every day I feel my bones ache more and more. It's a miracle that I can walk."

Minevra chuckled. "You're a terrible liar. If you couldn't function, you never would've consented to meeting me today."

The older woman nodded. "Very well Minevra. You're right. It's just that I did not expect you to approach me to teach."

"Albus had enormous respect for your abilities. You are one of the most knowledgeable Transfiguration Masters in the world, not to mention one of the most skilled duelists I have ever seen in action."

Hera gave her a sad look. "I feel like you value my abilities as duelist more so than my transfiguration abilities."

But Minevra shook her head. "Not so. Even if my country was not once more at war, you would be my first candidate to succeed me. But I also cannot ignore the times. I am going to be working very hard to develop a combat curriculum and I will need professors well versed in combat and dueling to help lead the project."

Hera raised an eyebrow. "You're certainly taking these matters much more seriously than Albus had when he was headmaster."

"The war You-Know-Who fought then is much different than what I am afraid he will fight now. He has recruited heavily among the criminal underworld throughout the world and our intelligence says he is building up an army that, by the end of summer, will be several thousand strong. No doubt he will continue to build it further. We also have reason to believe he is using con artists to ingratiate himself with a number of prominent families. This is a war more akin to what Grindelwald unleashed, but You-Know-Who is more dangerous than Grindelwald could ever hope to be."

"So you want to prepare the 5th-7th year students to fight, to prepare them for the war effort."

"No, I want to prepare every student in dueling and combat. It will be tailored to their grade level certainly. But ideally I would like to hire a regular Defense professor as well as assign one to two grades to other professors to instruct them in the art of dueling, relative to their abilities. For instance, I hope that you will instruct the 6th and 7th years in separate dueling courses in addition to your work as transfiguration professor. Filius has already agreed to work with the 1st and 2nd years. After I speak with you, I hope to have my potions position filled as well as someone who will instruct the 3rd, 4th and 5th years in dueling."

Hera sat back, thinking about her offer. "If I were to decline, who else do you have in mind?"

"Dedalus Diggle," Minevra responded. "I have already spoken to him and he is willing, assuming that you decline. I do not mean to rush you decision but I need to hear back in 48 hours. You were my mentor growing up and I know you will succeed as a professor, in every way that I require you to succeed. But I must have your decision."

"You haven't even been here thirty minutes, yet you're already putting the offer on the table," she asked with an eyebrow raised.

"You lived through the first war and I am sure you remember the urgency of the times then. It is worse now and I cannot and will not risk the lives of my students by being slow to respond. They deserve better. And I hope that after the war, you will consent to stay on the staff as well because, as I said earlier, you are the most qualified candidate for the position."

Minevra looked down at her watch. "Unfortunately Hera, I must leave you. I have an appointment with someone who is going to prove far more difficult to convince." She smiled at her old mentor. "I look forward to working with you again Hera."

Hera returned Minevra's smile with one of her own. "You're as presumptuous as always. I'm coming to Albus' funeral. You can show me my accommodations for the year then."

After exchanging a few more parting pleasantries, Minevra left her friend. She was immensely grateful that Hera agreed to come to Hogwarts, though she knew she would considering how close they were. And though she did not mention it, she would have a critical role in Potter's training. Minevra remembered Tom Riddle in school and while he was incredibly gifted and earned near perfect results in all his OWLs and NEWTs, he was not extraordinary in transfiguration, especially in duels. Hera was a master and if Harry could learn from her, he would have a considerable advantage in a duel over that monster.

But Hera was not enough. There were more people from whom Harry could learn; two who she hoped to bring onto her staff. Her next appointment would not doubt be the toughest sell. In many ways though, he would be the most important.

* * *

><p>"Absolutely not Minevra. No ma'am. Absolutely not."<p>

Minevra sighed internally, trying valiantly not to roll her eyes. "Come now Horace. Certainly this rootless existence you're living isn't appealing. Besides, if you haven't already given your loyalty to You-Know-Who, it isn't likely he'll ever will. Your living on the run isn't likely to boost his confidence in your loyalty either."

Horace Slughorn looked at her venomously, his labored breath making his walrus mustache bristle. "I am not going to risk my life by throwing my lot in with you either Minevra. While he may not be happy with me, if he does catch me I can submit. If I work for you, I am forever his enemy."

Now Minevra McGonagall scowled. "Horace, suppose You-Know-Who were to break down that door right now. Would you fight him or would you fight me?" Horace scowled and muttered under his breath. "I thought not. Horace, you cannot hope to stay on the run forever. When you are caught, you will either will fight or submit. I know you will fight, which means you will die. Is it not better to protect yourself behind the most powerful wards in the country and work alongside some of the most accomplished witches and wizards?"

Horace turned away but his shoulders dropped a little. "I have seen too much war Minevra. You are asking me to face more. At least now I can retain some semblance of independence." He looked at her and she saw a deep sadness in his eyes. "It is because of me we face the man we do. He knows it what's more and he wants me dead, whether I side with you or not."

"All the more reason Horace to come join the staff at Hogwarts," McGonagall said. "Horace, you need to see reason. This lifestyle is not going to keep you safe. Eventually, whatever plans you have in place to kill yourself or to die in battle, they will be exercised. But you will have died for nothing. So what if a couple Death Eaters go before you. Do you think that will stop him? Do you think that will have any impact on the war effort?"

"Of course it won't! But what you're asking me to do it shines a light on my past and reveals things that I have said and done that I cannot bear to see revealed." He looked at her shrewdly. "And I am sure you expect that I have a hand in training Harry Potter to defeat You-Know-Who. No doubt you hoped that my vanity for working with high-profile names would entice me to come just so I could affiliate with Potter."

McGonagall nodded brusquely. "As a matter of fact, I do hope that you will have a hand in training Potter. Whether or not you believe the press, he _is _the only wizard capable of defeating You-Know-Who completely and utterly. But he still must be prepared to face him in battle, which he is not. I am seeking out professors and mentors for Harry who has experience either facing You-Know-Who in battle, mentoring him, or both. You meet those requirements. My new curriculum will also prepare the entire student body for the war effort."

His eyes widened. "Are you saying that you wish to prepare the students in dueling and combat?" She nodded. "Even the first years?"

"So far as their capabilities will take them. But yes, I want the entire student body to understand how to duel and defend themselves to the best of their abilities. So you see Horace, you will have much more of an impact on this war than simply training Harry. You are a master at stealth and secrecy, even though you've always been a…_imposing _man in size." She smiled as he glared at her.

"Are you trying to say something Minevra," he demanded haughtily. But his eyes glimmered with mirth he couldn't contain.

"Of course not Horace. There are far worse habits than getting up from the dinner table later than most. Besides, your abilities as a watchman are perhaps the best the country has ever seen. Those are the skills you can pass along to your students in general and to Potter in particular. And that is why I want you to come back to the staff. And if you have any further doubts, I would want you to serve beyond the end of the war because you are also perhaps the most accomplished potions master in the country, if not in all of Europe."

Horace chewed on his mustache. McGonagall stared back calmly. She knew perfectly well she had a fish on a hook but she needed to reel him in gently. "What exactly would you have me teaching?"

She smiled internally. "You would assume the position of potions master naturally."

"What happened to Severus," he asked suddenly.

"I assure you he is perfectly safe and healthy," she said with a slight sneer, showing every outward sign of disgust. Horace was not a member of the Order and for now did not need to know the truth. "After he attempted to kill me, the other professors and I ran him from the castle. Every last vestige of You-Know-Who's army has been removed from Hogwarts."

"Except for the children of his followers," he replied darkly. "And for that matter, you do realize that you'll be preparing them to fight as well, odds are for the wrong side?"

"It isn't something that can be avoided," she said simply. "Now, in addition to potions, I also need you to serve as dueling instructor for the 3rd, 4th, and 5th years. Hera Evans will instruct the 6th and 7th years and Filius will do the same with the 1st and 2nd. At the end of the year, we will hold a tournament for each year as well. This will not be a club. You will be required to assess them throughout the year in a manner of your choosing and I expect a curriculum plan in place. Naturally, you will also work closely with the Defense professor as well, as will Hera and Filius."

"You managed to convince Hera to come to the school and teach," Horace said with some surprise.

"I did. Like you, she is a master in her given profession and will also be a valuable mentor for Harry Potter. I will say though, I did not tell her yet that she would be working with Potter. I would not have told you either had you not brought it up."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"I do not want it to public that I am training Harry. I trust you Horace, as I trust Hera. But accidents can still happen until we are all safely at Hogwarts. I am sure you understand."

He nodded. "Put that way I do. So, when can I start?"

McGonagall smiled and threw him a galleon. "This is a portkey that will activate tomorrow. Come to Dumbledore's funeral and after the ceremony, I will show you to your lodgings."

* * *

><p>A cool breeze, unseasonable for this time of year, whipped and tugged at the hem of McGonagall's traveling cloak. She consciously kept her hand on her wand, just in case something was wrong.<p>

It turned out to be an innocent breeze as nothing disturbed her as she finished walking up the small hill to a cottage overlooking a tiny village. As she approached the door, she couldn't help but wonder for perhaps the millionth time why Galatea insisted on living so close to that…that _abomination_.

Shaking her head, she tried to put the stories she had heard out of her mind. After all, she would need access to that abomination, today if Galatea would allow. After Moody caught Narcissa Malfoy snooping around, she knew it would be a matter of time before Voldemort's broke through the wards. Narcissa was arguably the most accomplished runes and arithmancy student Hogwarts had seen in several decades. Coupled with Rookwood, she would find a way to break through the wards sooner or later.

McGonagall knocked smartly on the door three times and stepped back, waiting for Galatea. She heard sounds from within the cottage, mostly the sounds of wards being lifted and locks being removed. Then the door creaked open, revealing a scowling woman.

"Who are you," she snapped and Minevra sensed her hand on her wand.

Carefully raising her hands to show she did not hold her wand, she answered. "It is I, Minevra McGonagall."

The other woman showed no signs of standing down. "What curse did you use to defeat Tom Riddle in your fifth year dueling exercise?"

Minevra smiled. "It was a fairly simple spell: accattivas. But Tom never knew what hit him because he never felt captivation and didn't know how to respond to being attracted to me."

The older woman smiled softly and lowered her wand. "That was a great piece of work Minevra. Too many of your classmates underestimated the value of simple spells in a duel. There is strength in them that gives them power beyond their simplicity to cast. You reminded me so strongly of Albus, it was uncanny."

The older woman shook her head and stepped aside. "Forgive me. Please come in. I have tea on the tray as well as some cookies."

"Thank you Professor Merrythought. Galatea I should say. I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice."

The older woman snorted. "Well, I shouldn't be surprised. By the sound of your letter, I imagine that you're putting together as many of the old guard as possible to prepare the students and protect Hogwarts. Very intriguing if I may say so, and I am looking forward to seeing so many of my old students once again."

Minevra smiled. "I am very excited to hear you'll return."

Galatea shrugged. "To be honest, it was never by choice that I left Hogwarts. During that last phase of the war, I was spending as much time away from my classroom and in it." She looked out the window, her eyes staring at something that only she could see. "I won't be sorry to leave this place behind. But are you quite certain Minevra that it is wise to bring him?"

Minevra frowned but nodded. "Albus suggested him from the very beginning, that that was before Alastor discovered one of his followers snooping around. He cannot fall into You-Know-Who's hands."

"But Tom would likely kill him once he plundered his mind."

"That isn't the point," Minevra stressed. "Imagine what he can tell You-Know-Who. More to the point, there is something that Albus is afraid of, something to do with You-Know-Who possessing his wand. Albus is convinced he is the only one who can prepare Harry to not only stand against You-Know-Who but stand against a You-Know-Who armed with one of the most powerful weapons ever created."

"So it is true that Gellert once possessed the Elder wand?"

"Apparently so. If that is the case, Harry will be at a disadvantage from the onset, even if he were Voldemort's equal in knowledge and power."

"That may not necessarily be so," the older woman replied. "The legend of the Elder wand is not consistent with what studies there are of the wand. The Elder wand does not make the user more powerful, nor does it naturally make any spells more powerful. It focuses the magical energies of user, making it easier to cast spells and gives them more potency depending on the intent of the caster. But it is does not make them all powerful. For instance, Albus was able to overpower Gellert and Tom was able to overpower Dumbledore, or at least duel him on even terms."

"Does that not mean the same thing as making him more powerful?"

"No," she said simply. "He is more of a menace but it will not make him unbeatable. Besides, there are applications of magic that transcend wand lore. It is another hurdle but I do not think possessing the elder wand will be the reason Tom should triumph. Nor do I believe that is the real reason Albus wants Gellert to train Harry."

Minevra raised an eyebrow. Why else would Dumbledore want Gellert Grindelwald to train Harry if not to teach him about the Elder wand and how to beat it?

"Minevra, if we are to retrieve Gellert, we should leave soon. He will need to be safely ensconced in Hogwarts soon, before Tom's pawns make their move."

Minevra nodded. "I agree. If you give me one moment, I need to summon some of my allies." She pulled out a galleon and fingered the numbers rapidly, rearranging them into a message. When she was done, she felt it warm up in her fingers and then cool. "A few of my colleagues will meet us at the limit of the wards."

"Very good," the older woman said, getting to her feet. She led Minevra out of the home and through the village and the grasslands. From the village, it was perhaps another mile until they reached the outer limits of the ward protection their destination. Waiting for them were the 10 people she summoned.

"Ah, it does me good to see you Alastor," Galatea said merrily, embracing her former student. "One of the best duelers I've ever taught. And hello Dedalus."

Diggle raised his trilby hat with a smile. "Good afternoon professor."

"Thank you all for coming so quickly," said McGonagall, stopping the introductions. "We need to move quickly. Galatea, if you would remove the wards."

The older woman walked up to the wards, knowing exactly where they stopped. She made a small cut on the palm of her hand with her wand and placed it on the wards. The others stood around as she began to chant, slowly at first than faster and faster. From her palm, more and more blood was drawn and merged with the magic of the wards, forming a doorway. After five minutes, she pulled away, noticeably whiter.

Remus offered a hand to steady her but she refused. Taking a deep breath, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small vial. She put her to her lips, tipped her head back, and swallowed it. Slowly the color returned to her cheeks and she coughed a little as her strength returned. "I am glad I will not have to do that anymore. Follow me everyone."

She pressed her hand on the dark opening on the wards and passed through easily. She waited until everyone had passed through and then waved her wand, which siphoned the opening away. That done, she started walking towards the now visible towering black tower about a quarter of a mile away. Even from this distance, there were obvious holes in the structure, though it shone brightly as the sunlight reflected off the black marble.

As they approached the entrance to the massive prison, they all stopped and read the message engraved on the marble: _**For the Greater Good**_.

"That maniac really put that above his prison," Nymphadora Tonks said with a grimace.

"Gellert was infatuated with the muggle Adolf Hitler," Galatea explained. "His ideas of racial purification and the establishment of a permanent empire were drawn from the muggle. Gellert once told me that he believed himself as much a messiah for the magical world as Hitler did for the muggle world. In this prison, nearly 3 million muggles lost their lives to tragic experiments, as did another 6 million witches and wizards. There were rape chambers where muggle and 'mudblood' women were raped and, using a devilish spell of his own creation, their pregnancy period was sped up, often to the point where the baby was born in 2 months. The mother would die naturally, as the spell basically robbed the mother of her life to fuel the rapid development of the infant."

She shook her head. "Forgive me. While I do not want to ignore the crimes Gellert has committed, I can see by the look on your faces that I am risking you all murdering him once you set eyes on him. Suffice it to say, after decades of speaking with him, and he speaking with Dumbledore, Gellert is a different man than he once was."

Several of her guard looked skeptical but they held their tongues under McGongall's glare. "This is not the time," she said under her breath.

"Very well. Alastor and Remus will come with us. The rest of you will man the floor and make sure no one breaks in. When we have Gellert, Galatea will take down the wards and we will leave. Galatea, if you would lead us to his chambers."

As they trekked up the tower, McGonagall stole glances into some of the rooms. When the Eurozone soldiers entombed Gellert in this prison, they didn't clean out the rooms, cells, and labs, save any bodies and paperwork. Gruesome potions were sitting on shelves, fermenting and giving off putrid fumes. Several floors and walls were stained with the rusted brown remains of dried blood. It disgusted her to think about the crimes that took place in this tower.

But as they approached the top, it became noticeably cleaner. Rooms were well furnished and there was even a library and exercise room. On the floor just below the top, there was a magnificent play area for children, still in immaculate condition. Toys were strewn all over the floor and, off on the far wall out of her vision, she saw a group picture.

"Galatea, please wait a moment." Minevra walked through the room slowly, subconsciously afraid to disturb the condition of this room, as if the ghosts of the children who once lived here would be angered by her presence. She pulled down the portrait. She didn't know why she was so drawn to it. It was a group photo of several happy, smiling children. They did not look as if they knew the darkness of the tower around them. Behind them, smiling broadly, were several adults, men and women. She imagined they were their caretakers, though a couple of the men and several of the women looked very young, possible no more than twenty.

"Minevra," said a soft voice behind her. "Are you all right?"

Minevra didn't notice Galatea enter the room. She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry." She went to put down the portrait but Galatea waved her wand, shrinking it and putting it in her pocket. "Why do you want to take it?"

"It's not why I want to. It's something that called to you. I've seen enough in life to know that those are signals you do not ignore." She looked back at the group waiting at the door. "Let's retrieve Gellert and leave."

As the left the play area, Minevra felt a twinge of guilt. Why had she been drawn to that portrait? There was no one she immediately recognized. Odds were those children grew up in trying circumstances because, while within this tower, they were raised to believe as Grindelwald believed, they would be raised by parents who likely hated Grindelwald.

The remaining floor took them back to the destitute of the lower floors. The marble had cracked off and broken in several spots on the ceiling, with the sun peeking through. There were several doors leading to different offices and rooms but these had been thoroughly plundered, to the point she could not determine what had been in any one of them. The final room on the left wing was heavily warded. Galatea did what she did before to create a path through the wards.

When she opened the door, the smell of corruption and death threatened to overwhelm them all except for Galatea. Inside the room was nothing but a limp, stained mattress leaking straw upon which rested a skeletally thin and filthy man in tattered robes. He was either dead or passed out. His chest was barely rising, so he must have been alive.

Galatea stepped through the stained marble and dried waste and knelt beside what remained of the man who five decades ago commanded an army of darkness larger than any man or woman before him. Uncorking a small vial, she tipped a potion into his mouth, gently massaging his throat to help it down.

He was very still for at least another minute, showing no signs the potion was having an effect. Then he coughed and spluttered, his eyes flickering hazily. "Is that you Galatea," he said, his voice hoarse with years of underuse.

"It is Gellert. We are removing you from this tower. Please do not struggle."

Grindelwald smiled, his mouth void of teeth. From the distance, Minevra smelled his vile breath. "How could I struggle? Where are you taking me?"

"I cannot say." She put a soft hand under his armpit and lifted him up. As the robes fell to the floor, they all saw how frightfully thin he was. Moody and Remus did not seem upset. Moody still looked ready to curse the former dark lord. For her part, considering the death this man was responsible for, she had little sympathy for Grindelwald either.

Once they reunited with the others, Galatea took down the wards protecting Nurmengard once and for all and then they took a portkey to the shrieking shack.

* * *

><p>Voldemort was not happy. During one of her forays to study the wards protecting Nurmengard, Narcissa witnessed Minevra McGonagall and a number of her Phoenix followers pass through the wards. She returned immediately to him and informed him of what was happening but when he arrived with two hundred of his newly minted soldiers, the wards were still in place and there was nothing he could do to remove them, even with Narcissa and Augustus working feverishly.<p>

He had been euphoric when, at last, the wards had disappeared and, believing it to be the work of his followers, he ordered a full assault on the fortress. He did not stop to consider they would portkey away, that in fact they disabled the wards _after _retrieving Grindelwald. All that he could do now was plunder the tower.

If only there was anything of interest to find. For two hours his minions went through the tower floor by floor but there was nothing to be found. It finally grew too much to bear and he ordered his forces to leave the fortress.

Alone with his thoughts, Voldemort paced through the main floor. He had failed to capture Grindelwald. He had no use for the man besides whatever secrets were hidden in his mind regarding the Deathly Hallows. But now that Grindelwald was safely ensconced in or near Hogwarts, he had two new problems. First, whatever secrets the man knew regarding the Hallows were lost. But more dangerous yet was that he was likely going to be used to train Potter.

With Severus forced out of Hogwarts, he had no spies within the castle, at least any of consequence. Sixth and seventh years are utterly useless in the realm of espionage. He was also afraid that McGonagall would be more likely to strengthen the wards. Dumbledore was confident that, so long as he was headmaster, no one would threaten Hogwarts. McGonagall, while a supremely talented witch, was not Dumbledore's equal. She would spend more time studying the full layout of Hogwarts protections and employ all she could. In a strange way, he would rather have threatened Hogwarts with Dumbledore. He was more predictable.

But eventually Hogwarts would be his. He would simply put those plans on hold. His first objective was clear. When that succeeded, he would turn his attention on the Ministry as a whole. He would take his time in this endeavor, unlike his attempts during his last bid for power.

But there was Potter, the foolish, conniving, stupid, lucky little boy who continues to foil his best laid plans. Dumbledore was a fool, never really training Potter. McGonagall would take his training far more seriously. While he did not feel Potter was a threat to him personally (although a small part of him did not wish to face him again), Potter could prove problematic to his war effort. Potter was a galvanizing figure, whether he wished to admit it or not. And while he felt he could handle Potter, he did not feel as sure his followers would be able to handle him in a duel.

There was no possible way for him to train every member of his new army, nor did he wish to anyway. They would serve admirably against whatever forces Bones drafted and built. What he would need to do is expand and build his inner circle. The Ministry would have a force of Aurors, the most accomplished witches and wizards in army. He would not be able to match them in numbers but he would surpass them in strength. And with his inner circle fortified, he would feel more comfortable should his minions encounter Potter, or any of the other more capable members of Dumbledore's Phoenix bunch.

He paused, looking out a broken window at the wide flatlands. If he was to train his forces, he would need to arm them with the best weapons he could, with the best armor he could find. More to the point, if he himself was to move into a position of visibility, instead of waging his war from the shadows as he did before, he would also need additional physical protection: dragon armor, fabricated muggle weaponry with magical modifications, new inventions.

But he did not wish to abandon guerilla war completely. First, no matter how great his forces, he would be outnumbered by the Ministry and their allies. But more importantly, he loved the thrill of stalking a victim, hunting them, and when they least expect it, killing them. Silent raids inspire terror in ways that simple brute tactics never could. Perhaps he would train certain of his inner circle in advanced combat and others in stealth and assassination techniques.

As the sun set, Voldemort finally left the tower.

* * *

><p>Galatea Merrythought closed the door softly behind her. "He's resting now. I've administered the first dosage of potions but he will need them regularly every four hours for the next five days."<p>

"Do you have enough stock," asked Minevra McGonagall.

"I should. By then he should be able to move around with a cane and begin his physical recovery. And that will be ideal with Hogwarts free of students."

Minevra nodded. "Alastor, Remus, Dedalus, and Molly have agreed to monitor Gellert while he is in shrieking shack. Until he has recovered and the necessary Unbreakable Vows are administered, I do not want him to set foot in Hogwarts. Regardless of the confidence you and Albus have in his repentance, I am not willing to trust him in Hogwarts, and eventually around the student population, until I have the assurance I need. The wards of Hogwarts have been extended to encompass this shack and your former students, save Remus, will ensure he is kept within these walls."

Galatea nodded, accepting that there was little she could say to change the Headmistress's mind. "I expected nothing different. To be fair, I am sure he is surprised that he has been removed from Nurmengard." She looked back towards the door and then dipped her head.


	4. Injustice Opposed

_A/N—I do not own Harry Potter_

_Special Note—For currency calculations, I used the following exchange rate: 1 Galleon=£24.6. I did this because it makes more monetary sense. For further information, please go to the following link: wiki/Wizarding_currency _

**Injustice Opposed**

The wind blew softly across the soft wooded hillside as the moonlight cast an ethereal glow over the horizon. Off in the distance, an owl hooted morosely.

In many ways, it was no different than one would expect an early summer's eve: calm, slightly cool, and not a hint of humidity. But for the majority of witches and wizards throughout Britain, this was a night of anxiety and mourning, a curious mix to be sure but no less real because of paradox.

In 36 hours, Albus Dumbledore would be laid to rest, the most recent casualty in the war against Lord Voldemort. Dumbledore, whatever his faults, will always be remembered for his strong opposition to the Dark Arts and his defeat of the Gellert Grindelwald and his reputation as the only wizard the Dark Lord ever feared. A man of titanic proportions and mythical stature, his death brought home to the nation that no one was truly safe in this war. And as the wizard world prepared for his funeral, they could not help but fear the coming war.

But, as great as Albus Dumbledore was, the new Minister Amelia Bones was making incredible strides to strengthen and defend the nation. She already instituted a draft, the first in over half a century. By the end of the year, modest projections estimated that the Ministry would have an army of 50,000 combat soldiers and 12,000 aurors, fully trained and ready for combat. No one could adequately predict how large a rebel army Voldemort would be able to raise but he would invariably be outnumbered, likely by at least a 2:1 margin.

Politically, Amelia Bones held the high cards at this stage within the nation. If Voldemort wanted to build an army to fight, he would have to win support abroad, something he never considered in his first rise to power. Witches, wizards, and all matter of magical creatures would need to provide him the numbers to stand against Amelia Bones and the Ministry.

But now, Amelia Bones was attempting to cut the Dark Lord off at the knees and strike at his most significant advantage in international recruitment. She was going to push for a full repeal of Law 15, the most infamous anti-humanoid legislation passed by a modern magical nation. Should the repeal go into effect, all legislation hitherto passed using Law 15 as its basis would be repealed as well. All magical creatures would be granted basic human rights and those rights would be enforced and protected by the Ministry.

While they would not be truly equal to humans in the eyes of the law, it would be a definitive policy shift towards full civil rights for non-humans and would make it difficult for the Dark Lord to solidify support from magical creatures. After all, he could only promise equality but as he led no government, his promises depended on victory. The Ministry could immediately offer support and back that support with legislation.

What made the repeal worse was, as Minister, she leaned heavily on her supporters to call an up-and-down vote with hardly 15 hours notice. The committee on foreign relations voted 9-6 in favor of calling the vote. Both sides will have one representative speak for 5 minutes in favor of their position and a floor vote will be called. Given how thoroughly Minister Bones and Dirk Cresswell, Head of the newly created Ministry of War, targeted supporters of the Dark Lord immediately upon her confirmation, the repeal was expected to pass easily.

Realizing the danger of not paying attention, Narcissa Malfoy blinked and dropped her previous train of thought, focusing on the Dark Lord, who was twirling his wand delicately but the magic around him was pulsating menacingly. No one dared even stir lest they draw his wrath. These were his greatest supporters, the most powerful and skilled. But that mattered not when set against the power of the Dark Lord.

"There is no possible doubt this resolution will pass the Wizengamot," the Dark Lord asked suddenly to Yaxley. "You are sure Antonin?"

The elder Death Eater nodded brusquely. "Unfortunately my lord. Far too many of our comrades and supporters have been removed while others you have recalled for their safety. A few families have appointed new representatives to the Wizengamot who will vote our way but with whom we have no connections. But other families have not appointed representatives, effectively abstaining their votes. Our most optimistic projection is 180 votes in favor of the repeal and 110 against with 10 no votes."

Voldemort sat silent, his red eyes flashing dangerously. "Those among you who serve as representatives for Lords and Ladies who will not vote against the repeal will make one last effort to make your benefactors see reason. Make it clear that I will seek retribution against any who would vote in favor of the repeal."

"My lord, with all due respect, this will not turn the vote in our favor," said Yaxley.

"Are you questioning me Antonin," the Dark Lord said softly. Everyone in the room waited with bated breath as all felt the curse building within the Dark Lord.

Yaxley met the Dark Lord's glare with calm serenity. "My lord, I have served with you for many years. You may punish me, as is your prerogative. But by asking our comrades to pressure their hosts with threats of violence and death will cost you in the long term. There are many neutral families who otherwise support our cause but are apprehensive of bucking the Ministry until we play our hands."

The Dark Lord's eyes flashed once again but he held his wand. "I will take your suggestion under advisement. My orders remain. Approach your families and convey my message."

* * *

><p>The Davis family was not one of the old, noble magical families, such as the Potters or the Blacks. In 1854, Thomas Davis, then a colonel in the magical army, led an expeditionary force into Persia, hunting for Herewad Strycar, one of the most dangerous anarchists and criminals in the United Kingdom, who sought to overthrow the Ministry and establish himself as King. Thomas and his men found Herewad masquerading as a member of the muggle Prime Minister Amir Nezam's staff, one of his most influential advisors. A direct attack was out of the question.<p>

In a stroke of brilliance, Thomas infiltrated the palace in Tehran and moved Herewad to the bedroom of the prince's daughter, removed their clothes, and modified the daughter's memory. When they were discovered in the morning, Herewad was without a wand and forced to flee, whereupon Thomas and his men captured him and returned him to Britain, seizing the nation's most wanted criminal. The Minister granted him the title of Lord and granted his family eternal representation in the Wizengamot.

Thomas Davis was a muggle born wizard but he had an estranged relationship with his parents, who loved him deeply but were scared of his abilities. When they tried to keep him from attending Hogwarts after his first year and showing all he had learned, he ran away, doing odd jobs and moving from family to family. While he stayed in contact with his parents while he was in school a couple times a year, he never saw them again.

As he grew older, he never _hated _muggles but he came to believe that the most appropriate arrangement for magical and non-magical people was complete separation. Should a witch or wizard be born to a muggle family, they should be removed and raised as a magical child. And should a magical family give birth to a squib, it would be left with a muggle family. The two races would have no interaction with one another.

Over time, the Lords and Ladies of the Davis family would bend their stance slightly, making investments in muggle real estate and financial markets around the globe. They never stepped out publicly in the muggle community but their name was famous among muggles because of their wealth. By the end of Voldemort's first rebellion, the Davis family was the second wealthiest in the nation behind the Potter family, in terms of combined muggle and magical wealth.

But what the family never forgot was to care for magical children in need. In 1965, Lord Spencer Davis was shopping in Diagon Alley when a small, scraggly boy ran by clutching two books and a potion set to his chest. He stopped the two men chasing the boy, paying for everything taken and then gave went to look for the little boy.

* * *

><p><em>Spencer Davis had little difficulty finding the little boy who raced by; people were talking about 'rude children' and 'chicken thieves'. Davis needed to work not to curse these people for the lack of empathy but it wouldn't make the slightest difference in the long run. And the boy was more important.<em>

_He came to a small alley and heard the little boy flipping through the books, his face alight with joy. But as his shadow grew down the alley, the boy started and tried to hide the books into a tattered bag. Davis smiled and sat down next to the boy, who looked terrified despite the smile._

"_What is your name son," Davis asked gently. The boy said nothing, looking at his battered shoes. "My name is Spencer, Spencer Davis. I promise I'm not angry with you. I paid those men who were chasing you. Those books are all your own."_

_The boy looked at the books with wide eyes and then at Davis. "Why would you do that?"_

"_I'll tell you if you tell me your name," Davis said with another smile._

"_My name is Ben."_

"_Hi Ben. It is nice to meet you." The boy said nothing but a gentle push with Occlumency showed the poor boy was an orphan. His parents, both muggles, were set upon by their neighbors when they tried to protect him after he performed accidental magic. As a crowd viciously beat his parents, two men tried to grab little Ben but a spurt of accidental magic set their hair on fire and gave him a chance to run. As the boy fled, he grabbed a letter with the Hogwarts seal._

_Davis closed his eyes as he broke the connection, wiping at a lone tear sliding down his cheeks._

"_What did you do to me," the boy asked, tears streaming down his face. "How did you get in my head?"_

_Davis was startled the boy could feel his presence and also that he knew what memory he saw. "I'm very sorry Ben but I wanted to see how you came to be like this. I didn't expect you would know what I was doing." Then his gaze sharpened. "Has anyone ever done that to you before?"_

_Ben looked at his shoes again. "My first night here, a man and woman tried to take me after I stole some bread. They poked in my mind like you did to find me. They left me alone though…after they saw what you saw." Ben buried his head in his knees and wept._

_Davis hefted the boy onto his lap and hugged him tightly, letting Ben cry for five minutes. As he sniffled and settled, Davis let the boy loose. "I am very sorry Ben for what happened to your mom and dad. They did something very special by trying to protect you."_

_Ben wiped at his nose. "Why did those people get so mad? What did I do wrong?"_

_Davis looked at Ben very intently. "You did absolutely nothing wrong. There are some people who are afraid of something different, especially magic"—he trusted Ben knew what he had done was magic—"Most of them ignore what is different but some, like those people who murdered your mom and dad, attack what they're afraid of. But your parents loved you and know you did nothing wrong."_

"_I've done things like that before, but no one ever saw me do it."_

_Davis nodded. "I believe you. What you did was called 'accidental magic' and it is something that happens to all magical children when they are young. It means you're a wizard and that is something to be proud of."_

_Ben looked morose. "But I can't go to school. I've tried to take books I need but everyone talks about Hogwarts." He went over to a loose brick on the wall and pulled it out. A crumpled letter rested inside. Ben reached in and handed it to Davis. "I hear everyone talking about this school but I was too afraid to meet Professor Slughorn when the day on the letter came."_

_Davis read quickly through the letter, which set up a time for Horace Slughorn, deputy headmaster of Hogwarts, at the Leaky Cauldron to discuss how Ben's parents can monitor accidental magic until he was ready to come to Hogwarts. Judging by the date on the letter and Ben's growth between the memory and now, he had been on the run for almost a year._

_A deep, passionate rage ripped through Davis. His great-grandfather had warned the Ministry about not finally severing all ties between the magical and muggle communities. This poor child, by the grace of God, survived on the streets for nearly a year. Davis hated the muggles who did this to him and killed his parents but he knew how muggles could react to a superior race of people; it was only to be expected that they would resist a force that could lead to their extinction. No, he was more upset with the government that would allow this poor boy to reach such a pass._

_Davis shrunk the boy's bag, books, and potion kit with a wave of his wand and put them in his pocket. "Come on Ben."_

"_Where're we going?"_

_Davis looked at him with a wide smile. "You're coming home with me."_

* * *

><p>The Davis family owned several hundred properties around the world in addition to villas and lofts in major cities in the United States, France, Germany, Russia, Japan, Australia, Brazil, and South Africa. But ever since Thomas Davis became Lord Davis in 1855, the family lived in a modestly Victorian manor in Suffolk County, about ten miles off the southern coast. The manor was approaching grand when constructed but future generations, remembering the humble roots of Thomas Davis, largely did not add to the property or expand.<p>

The property was one of the most elaborately protected private properties in the country as well, if not in all of Europe. Thomas, in his time in the magical army, saw much of the most exotic places in the world and interacted with shamans and medicine men of more primitive cultures and some of the most learned magical minds of the civilized world. He absorbed everything and the protections surround his manor reflected his genius.

Only perhaps two dozen men and women could approach the property, coming to a grand wrought iron gate. Presently, one young man, cloaked in his traveling robes against the chilly summer eve wind, approached and grasped one of the shafts with his right hand. He felt a small tug at his naval as the wards assessed his magical signature and, a new addition added by Spencer, his vitals. After about ten seconds, the shaft and three to the left and right vanished, granting him access.

"Good evening Mr. Murrison," greeted a sober, stately house elf. He bowed deferentially, granting access to the manor.

"Hello Zeus. Where is Lord Davis?"

"Sir and madam have retired to the study for the evening. Please follow me."

Murrison, who had spent countless hours in this home, still marveled at the scope of domestic renovations. As Zeus led him to and up the main staircase, there was hardly a room they passed where there weren't muggle appliances and electronics that had been modified with magic. Murrison's nostrils flared slightly at what he viewed as an inferior lifestyle being extrapolated and placed in a magical home. But that was the only sign of his distaste.

As promised, Lord and Lady Davis were reading in front of the fire of the library. They seemed oblivious to the pair until Zeus announced them.

"Thank you Zeus," replied Lord Spencer Davis. A well-built man in his early sixties, Spencer Davis exuded strength and wisdom. His dapper gray chin beard, far more suited for a Frenchman, enhanced his features rather than detracting. His piercing gray eyes though shone with kindness and care. This man had served two stints in the magical army, following in the footsteps of his ancestors and bringing further glory to the Davis name.

Spencer was also as traveled as his great-great-grandfather. In the course of his lifetime, he earned several magical commendations and certifications from countries throughout Europe, Asia, and Africa. He also was unique among witches and wizards in that he earned advanced degrees in business and psychology from Cambridge after finishing Hogwarts. As the second wealthiest man in Britain (muggle and magical wealth combined), his degrees and relative fame in the muggle world made him very unique. To many (too many as it were) it also made him a target.

"My lord," Murrison said with bow. "Madam Davis. Always a pleasure," he said with kiss on her hand.

"It is good to see you Ben," Spencer said. "We have much to discuss. Miranda, if you will please excuse Ben and I."

As Madam Davis departed, Spencer fixed drinks and passed bourbon on the rocks to Ben.

"Thank you."

Spencer grunted a little as he sat back down, the leather on the chair creaking a little. "I understand the Minister is calling for a full repeal of Law 15. She even managed to secure a straight up-and-down vote on the floor on such short notice."

Ben nodded. "That is correct. It is expected to pass, in no small part due to the…_forceful _measure she and her deputy Cresswell took immediately following her inauguration."

Spencer eyed his drink, deep in thought. "They did not manage to identify everyone however," he said calmly with just a hint of irony.

Ben chose to ignore the irony. "That is correct my lord. Supporters of the Dark Lord still exist within the Ministry and will make their voices heard tomorrow."

"And I suspect Tom has demanded a last promise of retribution be delivered to families who may be on the fence." Again, he spoke with no malice but a detached, if slightly ironic, calm.

Nevertheless, Ben flinched ever so at the mention of the Dark Lord's birth name. He managed a curt nod in response.

Spencer set down his drink and stared at the fire for several minutes. "Surely you must know Benjamin," he said eventually, "that I will not oppose the repeal."

Ben nodded again. "I understand my lord. That is why I am here. Surely you must understand that supporting the repeal is foolish."

Spencer shook his head. "That law is one of the most degrading pieces of legislation our esteemed government has ever passed. Even absent Tom's war, I would say that without hesitation. That this repeal will make it easier to combat Tom only solidifies my support."

Benjamin sat back. He desperately wanted to shout at his benefactor. "Sir, I implore you to see reason. Even if you believe the repeal is sound policy, surely you must understand the Dark Lord will not hesitate to exact his vengeance on you. And he will not simply kill you. He will torture you first, going after Lady Davis and young Tracey, forcing you to watch as he captures, tortures, and ultimately kills them."

Benjamin felt nauseated. While he supported the Dark Lord and his mission, he was generally appalled by his demagogic excesses. But he needed to make Spencer see reason, no matter how ghastly the truth.

The older man frowned and sighed sadly. He reached out and placed his hand gently on Ben's. "I am so sorry my son. I cannot oppose the Minister," he said heavily, eyes glistening with tears.

Ben instinctively rested his free hand on Spencer's as a lone tear slid down his cheek. "Is there nothing that can convince you father? The Dark Lord is inevitably going to win this war. And then this nation will experience a rebirth of liberty as the magical race takes it true place at the head of society and the muggles are put where they deserve: under the heel of the magical government."

Spencer shook his head. "The Dark Lord does not know the meaning of liberty," he said with a sneer. "He knows only destruction and the power he thinks it brings. He also does not fully appreciate the power the muggles possess. They are an inferior race but they are not without their strength."

It was Ben's turn to shake his head. "They are bumbling fools, prone to fear and murder of what they do not understand. You argue that we can live in peace but that is utter rubbish."

Spencer withdrew his hand. "My son, it is not a matter of living in peace with one another. The muggles have their own political and cultural schema and we have our own. We need to separate ourselves from their society and they from ours."

"And when do you plan to sell your muggle properties and pull your investments from the muggle economies," Ben responded derisively.

"I have no plans to do any such thing Ben. As a reclusive tycoon in the muggle world, I am allowed certain eccentricities without the trouble of being constantly under the public eye. My grandfather understood the benefits of such an arrangement as he removed several dozen magical children from poor, abusive, or neglectful muggle families, placing them with good magical families." Spencer cast a meaningful look at Ben. "Had the Ministry erected a complete wall of separation with the muggle world, you would never have lost your parents. They were good and kind people Ben, as you know. Your Lord Voldemort would see them dead with the same impunity as he would see the people who took your parents lives. Can you truly see any justice in such an arrangement?"

Ben shook his head. "While I oppose the excesses of the Dark Lord's methods, you are wrong to believe he would slaughter the muggles. He seeks to elevate the magical race to a position of dominance and force the muggles to recognize us as the superior people."

"Are you so naïve my son to believe that they will not hunt you—all of us—down when they realize the reign is over?" Spencer looked over Ben, as if seeing him for the first time. "Or is it arrogance?"

"Excuse me?"

"You believe that the muggles will passively acquiesce, accepting magical rule as a natural evolution of society. You believe they are all cowards as the men and women who murdered your parents."

"And you believe they are all like Winston Churchill. We've had this discussion before father. The muggles, on the whole, are a weak and cowardly people. When we decide to move against them, we will move silently and target their leaders. Like a chicken with its head chopped off, the body will struggle vainly but in the end it will fall. You underestimate the power of the Dark Lord. And the power of his followers," Ben added ominously.

Spencer shook his head. "I am so sorry my son for how deeply I have failed you. I should've seen the signs when you began spending your free time with the worst of the Slytherin house."

Ben bristled at the accusation. "They are the future leaders of the magical world father. Do no degrade them."

"I fear for the magical world then and I will do whatever I can to keep that day from ever coming to pass." A lone tear slid down his cheek. "But I cannot allow you to come to harm Ben, not when you still have a chance for redemption."

"What are you saying?"

"This will be the last time you and I will see one another. I must do what I feel is best and you the same. But I will not let you be murdered in a vengeful fit by Tom. Zeus!"

The house elf _popped _immediately. "Yes sir."

"You will administer an Unbreakable Vow between Ben and me. Then you will remove his name from the registrar."

"Wait! What are you doing father," he asked, jumping to his feet.

"What I must." He stood and embraced his son. "I want you to know that I have, do, and will always love you, even if I cannot support your master. There will come a time when you understand the sacrifice I am making for you and I hope you will one day see the abyss into which Tom is leading this nation."

Ben sighed and nestled his head on Spencer's shoulder. "It doesn't have to be this way father."

Spencer extended his arms. "Are you saying Tom will not seek retribution against me for voting with the Minister?" Ben said nothing. "I thought not," Spencer said with a rueful chuckle. "When you disappeared last year, I knew then that Tom had returned. I expected you and I would have this moment much earlier but I underestimated Tom. But the moment is here and I am prepared."

"Zeus, you will administer the Unbreakable Vow now. Ben will swear to vote in favor of the repeal of Law 15 tomorrow and then he will vow to lead Tom to the manor when he demands my head."

Ben stared, eyes wide. "Father, I cannot bring the Dark Lord here!"

"Yes you can and yes you must. If it will keep you safe, I will gladly give my life. Do not worry about me Ben and do not worry about your mother and Tracey. They will be safe."

"Tracey will not be safe at Hogwarts if you stand against the Dark Lord, especially if you draw him here and repel him."

"She will find allies, of this I am certain." Spencer grabbed Ben's hand. "Please administer the Unbreakable Oath Zeus."

"Very good master." He rested his hand over theirs. "Does Master Ben vow to vote in favor of Law 15?"

"I do."

"And does Master Ben vow, regardless of personal sentiment, to bring Tom Marvolo Riddle to this manor when ordered?"

Ben shook his head.

"Ben please. I cannot bear to see you tortured and murdered. You still have much of your life to live."

"But…"

"No Ben," Spencer said with great urgency. "If you do not swear to the Vow, Tom will still kill me in the end and you will have died for nothing."

"Why do you want to save me?"

"I love you Ben and I still see the promise in you and the greatness you can achieve. If you do not lead Tom to me, he will murder you for not only failing to convince me to vote against the repeal but shielding me from him. That I cannot allow." He nodded to Zeus.

"And does Master Ben vow, regardless of personal sentiment, to bring Tom Marvolo Riddle to this manor when ordered?"

Seconds turned into minutes as Ben considered. Finally…

"I do."

* * *

><p>Harry woke at 4 am on Thursday, an hour before he was due to arrive at Gringotts. His housemates were deep asleep, Ron mumbling something about spiders. Harry chuckled as he walked to the shower.<p>

He was curious about exactly what Griphook would show him. He knew for some time his dad was rich; he only had to walk into his trust vault if he were ever in doubt. But Professor McGonagall also said she was looking forward to an evaluation of his genealogy and abilities. She sounded as if she wanted to develop a training program for him. After seeing Dumbledore and Voldemort duel, he knew how pathetically overmatched he would be right now against Voldemort.

And of course, this would be a fitting way to honor Sirius and put his memory to rest. As he wiped away a tear, he wished that he still had his godfather with him. With both he and Dumbledore gone, Harry felt increasingly alone.

Professor McGonagall was up and working at her desk when Harry came at 4:45. "Good morning Professor."

"Good morning Potter. Before you leave for Gringotts, there is something I need to discuss with you. Please sit."

"What is it Professor?"

"Well, first how are you feeling? Are you looking forward to seeing Griphook?"

"I've been thinking about it a lot since we talked yesterday. I'm looking forward to learning more about my family and about Sirius'. I'm curious about how this abilities assessment will work too."

McGonagall smiled. "I am looking forward to your evaluation too. You've shown a propensity for magic. With some training, in the right areas, you will become a formidable wizard."

Harry blushed. He wasn't used to being complemented by her. "Thank you Professor."

She smiled at his embarrassment. "My pleasure. Now, at 2 the Minister will fetch you from Griphook and bring you to the Minister. She wanted me to explain to you why."

"Do you remember when Remus Lupin was hired as DADA professor?"

Harry nodded. "I do. I remember him saying how much Dumbledore needed to push for him to get the position."

"That is true. The reason is many people, such as Dolores Umbridge," McGonagall sneered, "hate and fear part humans. And because they are in a position to do so, they pass legislation targeting part humans. Law 15 is one of the most notorious anti-part-human bills ever passed by the Wizengamot. Since it was put on the books in 1881, several dozen smaller laws have been passed using it as the justification. One was forced through by Umbridge after Dumbledore hired Remus: The Preferential Employment of Witches and Wizards with Reference to Dangerous Creatures. She couldn't do anything about Remus being hired, though she and others tried desperately. But this rider ensured nothing like that could ever happen again."

Harry was appalled. "That's ridiculous!"

McGonagall nodded. "I agree. The Minister does as well and that is why today she has arranged for a vote by the Wizengamot for a full repeal of Law 15 and anything that has been based with it as the justification. Part humans will not be recognized as equal with humans but the Ministry will respect and defend their rights."

"Good! But why is she doing this now?"

"Good question. The minister is working with the goblins, trying to recruit them as allies. During the last war with V—Vo—Voldemort, they were neutral. But they are extremely influential throughout the world as economists and diplomats. The goblins have promised to aid the Ministry in certain ways in exchange for a full repeal of Law 15."

"Plus repealing Law 15 would make it harder for Tom to recruit vampires and werewolves."

McGonagall smiled. "Very astute Harry. That is absolutely correct and something the Minister finds desirable. Ragnuk II has also pledged to serve as personal diplomat for the Minister if she can repeal Law 15."

"So what does the Minister what me to do?"

"Take your family's seat—and the Black family seat as well—and vote. She will not call on you to make a speech but your mere presence will remind everyone of Dumbledore, whose image she is conjuring to pass the repeal." She cast a speculative eye on him for a reaction. "Do you mind taking your two seats and voting?"

Harry shook his head. "Not at all. If this helps people like Hagrid and Remus rejoin society with respect, I will vote 100 times if needed."

McGonagall smiled with satisfaction. "Outstanding Harry. I imagine Griphook will be waiting. Step through the fire and it will take you to his office."

As was always the case, Harry collapsed out of the fire. He heard a chuckle off to his right and quickly got to his feet and brushed off the soot with as much dignity as he could.

"Good morning Mr. Potter," the goblin said with a smile.

"Griphook. You have a little catch in the floo. You may want get that looked at."

Griphook laughed uproariously. "I see Mr. Potter. I'd wager against it since I've seen your father and grandfather before him fall out of that floo more times than I can count. Potter men never seem to quite manage the dismount."

Harry shook his head with a chuckle. "Why am I not surprised? I never knew you were my family's personal advisor."

"I was appointed shortly after your father was born as a matter of fact. It was my first significant account and I remember how terrified I was that I would have to manage significant muggle finances as well as magical finances. But your grandfather was a remarkably astute financier and that helped my job significantly. James, who never cared much for financial analysis, leaned more on me as he came of age and by then I was prepared."

"But before we discuss your finances, I need to conduct a genealogical evaluation. I suspect we will see nothing unexpected on James' end but it never hurts to evaluate your mother, Lily's lineage. This is also why I asked you here so early."

"What do you need to do?"

"I will need to put you to sleep for at least two hours, possibly more since the Minister and Headmistress also wanted a report on your abilities and those powers that have surfaced in your family you may have an affinity for. It is possible you will be out up to three and a half hours."

"Wow. I didn't think it would be that involved."

"Ordinarily it wouldn't be. The majority of times these evaluations are done, it is pure blood witches and wizards being evaluated. We do a cursory look for anomalies but otherwise we use the ancestry record on file. For people with one or two muggle parents, it is more involved. Regardless, I assure you it is an entirely painless process."

"I trust you. I'm interested to see the outcome as well."

"Wonderful! Please follow me and I'll set up in one of our examination rooms."

As Griphook led him out, Harry looked at the different offices and various halls. It looked like they were in an administrative wing of Gringotts, which he had never noticed in his prior visits. They never came to the atrium either but Harry heard customers talking at one point so he figured they were heading closer to the main hub of the bank.

"Here we are Harry. Please step inside."

The room was meticulously clean but empty besides what looked like a bathtub in the center of the room. "How does this work?"

"You will need to lie down naked in the tub. Once you're settled, you'll notice a charm causing you to feel tired and soon thereafter you will fall asleep. After that, I will insert a series of pins all over your body and then fill the tub with an absorbing potion. As your body absorbs the potion, the pins are charmed to absorb the combination of your magical energy and the potion. After the process is complete, I will remove the pins and insert them in that device," he pointed to what looked like a silver typewriter, "and it will show us your ancestry and then a report of the abilities that are common in your family, abilities that have been displayed but are uncommon, and finally what new abilities you may be the first to exhibit. Please understand that the first two lists may be extensive but that does not mean you have the ability to master or even learn all of those abilities. The magic identify the odds and organize the list thusly."

"Do you have any other questions before we begin?"

"No but do I really have to be naked?" Harry scolded himself for being self-conscious but he couldn't help it.

"You do Harry," the goblin said simply, offering no perch on which Harry to hang an excuse.

Muttering under his breath, Harry stripped quickly and lay down in the tub. Barely a minute later he was asleep.

* * *

><p>Griphook was reviewing the latest reports on the Black family estate when Marnik, his personal assistant, entered into his office.<p>

"What's happening," Griphook asked.

"Sir, everything is okay right now but there is something I must tell you about the Potter boy."

Griphook raised an eyebrow. "What is it? Is Harry okay?"

Marnik nodded. "The boy is perfectly fine and the evaluation is proceeding as expected. What happened was rather unique. It appears the boy was housing a portion of Tom Riddle's soul. Our instruments could not sift through it to evaluate Potter's abilities but we realized the problem only by chance."

"How is it possible part of Riddle's soul was in Harry's body?"

Marnik shrugged his shoulders. "I am not entirely sure. It seems strange to use a living person as a horcrux considering the danger of the host dying. I would have to assume Tom isn't aware Potter was a horcrux. Otherwise he would not be so determined to kill him so quickly."

Griphook nodded. Marnik was absolutely correct that Riddle would not have willingly turned Potter into a horcrux. But that raises more questions than it answered. He wrote a note to himself. He would not discuss the issue with Harry, at least right away. He needed to understand more about what McGonagall, Bones, and (especially) Dumbledore knew about Tom. Were any of them aware Potter was a horcrux?

"Thank you Marnik. Please keep this between you and me if you please. The fewer people who know Tom created a horcrux, even accidently, the better."

"Of course Griphook. Potter should otherwise be ready in about 3 hours. We've had to start from scratch and recalibrate our instruments. I'd wager he'll be ready for you by 10, maybe 10:30."

"That is fine. Thank you Marnik."

* * *

><p>Even though Harry's eyes were shut tight, he groaned at the light blazing around him. He groaned and rubbed his eyes.<p>

"Welcome back Potter," said a goblin voice Harry couldn't recognize. "Please get dressed if you please and I will escort you to Griphook's office."

Harry shook his head, trying to get rid of the cobwebs in his mind. "Who are you," he asked groggily.

"My name is Marnik. Please hurry if you will Potter. It is already past 10:30 and Griphook will has much to discuss before lunch and the Minister comes to retrieve you."

Potter mumbled under his breath as he dressed. After he was set, the goblin tossed him a vial of potion that tasted bitter but made him feel more alert. "Thanks."

"My pleasure. Now let's crack on."

When Marnik ushered Harry into Griphook's office, the goblin was looking over a large roll of parchment. Several more rolls were furled under his chair. When Harry asked if all those were for Harry's finances, Griphook shook his head.

"Most but not all. I have the results from your evaluation and some of these are duplicates for your records. Thank you Marnik." The other goblin bowed and left as Griphook motioned for Harry to sit. "How do you feel?"

"I'm feeling good actually. That wasn't bad at all."

Griphook smiled. "Very good. Now, we don't have as much time as I would like to discuss your financial position but I can give you a good idea before we go to lunch at 1:00. And we have to discuss the results of your evaluation as well."

"Now then, since you are not a financier, I will not go into small details. At the same time, I will recommend very highly to Professor McGonagall that you take lessons in muggle and magical finance. It is not that I do not want you to trust me but you should know what we are discussing so you can make smart decisions on your own."

Harry nodded. "That sounds good. Should I buy some books?" Harry didn't really want to since he wasn't a very studious person but he knew he'd have to if he wanted to learn.

"As a matter of fact, if you wish, I can purchase several books for you and have them sent. Forgive me, but given your ignorance in financial analysis, you may not know what to buy."

"I understand. That would be fine."

"Terrific. Now, let's first look at the Potter family estate." Griphook pulled one of the rolls of parchment from next to his chair and tapped it, showing a list of 10 coordinates. Two of them has asterisk next to them and four had open circles. "This is a list of all the private properties you own as heir to the Potter. The two properties in with an asterisk are Potter manors. Your father and grandfather favored the one in England, which was built in 1765 as a home for your several times great-uncle. The Welsh property is the ancestral home of the Potter family. Both are tended by house elves that have served the Potter family since the 11th century."

"I have house elves?"

Griphook nodded. "Centuries ago, after William I assumed the throne in England, the magical community created their own provincial government, the birth of the Ministry. Edmund Potter, a noble and cousin of Godric Gryffindor, worked diligently to create a constitutional monarchy on the model of the Roman Empire. Edmund was an incredibly far sighted man who believed that the magical community must be separate politically from the muggles but share cultural ties. He also believed that all magical beings deserve representation in government, thus ensuring fair treatment for all."

Griphook frowned. "Unfortunately, many of his contemporaries, upset over muggle persecution of witches and wizards and smarting from ongoing wars with goblins and giants, rejected many of his proposals. But Edmund continued to work for a strong magical government with a place for all regardless, something his family would continue to struggle for."

"And that led him to a dismissed house elf that had been kicked out by Charles Beauclerc, a descendent of the Black family. Edmund offered him a place in his home and paid him for his services, one of the first to be paid. Five years later Edmund hired another elf and the family was born. Ten house elves service your English manor and twelve service the Welsh residence. I would like to show you both properties this summer."

"Now, the four properties with the open circle are currently being rented to magical families as vacation homes, similar to the muggle bed and breakfast concept. They cater to upper-class clients to be certain but they also have a number of rooms and clients who are middle-class as well. They are serviced by a staff that lives on-site. Since your grandfather passed away, I have hired and staffed those properties over years. They are each located in prime real estate in Australia, Brazil, South Africa, and Alabama in America." Griphook tapped the parchment once again and figures appeared next to each. "For the last full fiscal year, you made a profit of approximately £28 million or 1.14 million Galleons. That is average over the past ten years and since many families have standing contracts, these numbers should continue."

Harry gaped at the page. "I made _£28 million_! Where does it all go?"

Griphook smiled. "75% of the profits are divided evenly and donated to charities in the area, 20% is invested in the market, and the remainder is deposited into your personal account. These aren't your primary business drivers either though Harry."

"I have more?" Harry couldn't help sounding like a 5 year old. Griphook was told him he basically has had £1 million being deposited into his account each year (however many Galleons that was) for ten years. And this was just the beginning!

Griphook chuckled. "You do." The goblin tapped the parchment which rolled and dropped next to Harry. "Just so you know the remaining 4 properties lay fallow currently. Your elves maintain them as they are often used as vacation homes when your family travels. It is at your discretion what you would like to do in the future but I would strongly recommend opening them to rental as well."

"Now, I won't go into all the nuances of your investments but I will be providing you a record of the companies you currently have stocks in and we can discuss your portfolio this winter. Last year, your reported capital gains profit was £45 million or 1.83 million Galleons." Another tap and the roll furled and dropped next to Harry.

Nearly an hour and a half later, Harry's head was spinning. As Head of the Potter family, he had a magical net worth of £2.1 billion (approximately 85 million Galleons). The Potter family, being one of a handful of magical families to invest in the muggle economy, also had a muggle net worth of £865 million. And what was even better was that he was free of the Dursley's, or at least would be when he turned 16. As the Head of a Family, he was legally emancipated when he turned 16.

After going over the Potter family affairs, Griphook also covered the Black family, which Harry opted to have completely rolled over into Potter accounts. Harry would receive Grimmauld Place (which he planned to raze at first chance; he refused to sell it as Griphook suggested) and two other lots that were largely deteriorating. Harry outlined an idea he had for one, which made Griphook smile; he promised to begin looking into permits as soon as possible. The Black family held most of the wealth in Gringotts with few investments. In total, Harry's net worth would increase by £45 million (approximately 1.83 million Galleons).

As Harry shrunk and pocketed all the parchment from Griphook, the goblin pulled up one last roll. "Now Harry, before we go over your genealogy and abilities, I want to schedule a time where you and I can meet this summer to take you on a tour of your two manors. Unfortunately, for your safety we will need to wait until you're 16. Dumbledore and McGonagall stressed the importance of waiting until then. If you wish, I can arrange for Marnik to also take you to the Black property you mentioned to see how we are progressing. I suspect your plan will be ready to roll by late August or early September."

"Thanks Griphook. Can you come pick me up on August 1st?"

Griphook chuckled. "Well, I can't say I am surprised. I can arrange that Harry. Do you also want your two friends, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley to come as well."

"Yes please."

He jotted down a quick note. "That won't be a problem. Now, it is already past noon. I daresay lunch will be shortened a bit unless we crack on." Griphook handed him a small dagger. "Please deposit a small bit of blood on the parchment to activate the charm if you please."

Harry cut his thumb and pressed it on the parchment. As he healed the cut, squares and lines appeared all over the parchment, looking very much like the tapestry that hung in Grimmauld Place.

Griphook found where Harry's spot lay at the bottom of the page and pulled out an older parchment that looked to be James' family tree. "There doesn't seem to be any irregularities or unexpected appearances on your father's side, which I cannot say is surprising." He waved his hand over that section, bottom to top, making it vanish; then he waved his hand left to right, causing everything to shift and Lily's side to appear.

"My word,' Griphook breathed.

"What is it?"

Griphook seemed shell-shocked. He traced a finger up the page. "Harry, this evaluation can only identify magical relatives with accuracy. For instance, your maternal grandmother, Andrea Williams, appears as an 'X'. I expected the same for your maternal grandfather but he is a wizard. What is particularly strange is his lineage is unremarkable but the family name is Schmidt. Yet his primary name is listed as Sebastian Evans. I'm sorry, but I've never seen anything like this before."

Harry followed the path from his grandfather, which seemed to be a line of pureblood witches and wizards. The name Schmidt appeared linearly throughout the chain. But Petunia said her parents were muggles who doted on Lily because of her abilities but otherwise couldn't do any on their own. But Lily was a half blood.

"What does this mean Griphook?"

"Well, in a way nothing. I will confer with the goblin nation in Germany to inquire about this, in no small part to see if there is any inheritance but mainly to see if I can find some answers. The family name does not ring any bells of particular import in German history but I can be sure. I am also curious because Sebastian was 10 years older than Andrea. Not unusual but interesting I suppose."

Griphook waved his hand again from top to bottom, vanishing Lily's tree. Harry still couldn't believe that his mum had a wizard for a grandfather and Petunia never seemed to know. How could that be?

"Very good Harry," Griphook said after tapping the parchment again, causing two lists to appear. "The list on the left is abilities that have appeared several times over the generations in your lineage, both on your mother's side and father's or combined. The list on the right is relative anomalies that appear here and there but there is no trend. Please note, you are highly unlikely to have the affinity for even most of these but there are simple tests that can determine if you can master them."

**Abilities—Consistent Appearance**

Animagus

Charms Mastery

Parseltongue

Pyrokinesis

Flight

Legilimency

Occlumency

Transfiguration Mastery

**Abilities—Rare Appearances**

Psychometry

Dark Magic

Energy Absorbance

Stealth

Shatterpoint Manipulation

Telepathy

Wind Magic

Self-Healing

Wandless/Wordless Magic

Alchemy

Harry looked over the list, recognizing some. His stomach curdled as he remembered the failed experiment to learn Occlumency from Snape. He doubted he truly possessed the ability to master that particular skill, even if he understood the benefit of learning it. He wrote off Legilimency until he saw Telepathy. He assumed they were interrelated, which Griphook confirmed. He also said when abilities that share a common foundation appear on each list, it is often a sign that he can master the one then the other or else can't master either.

"What is 'Shatterpoint Manipulation'? I've never heard of that term before."

Griphook shrugged. "I'll admit that is a new term to me as well. My initial belief was it was an application of the Dark Arts but since you have a low probability of mastering the Dark Arts, I think it is something else entirely."

Harry nodded, accepting that logic. He didn't ask many questions about the second list, largely writing them off, though he was intrigued by Self-Healing and Magical Absorbance.

"When can I be tested to see if I can master these," he asked, excited to begin.

"I will confer with Professor McGonagall next week after Dumbledore is laid to rest. She is determined to begin your training before you return to Hogwarts, which we can arrange after your 16th birthday. She will work with you as well so you are prepared."

"But it is already past 1:00 and the Minister will be arriving soon. Did Professor McGonagall explain what you would be doing this afternoon?"

"She did."

"Very good. I'll escort you down to a little café outside for lunch and the Minister will retrieve you there."

* * *

><p>Amelia Bones paced her office nervously. The vote today would be one of the seminal events of the new war. If the repeal failed, she would lose all bargaining power with the goblins, possibly for the entire war. And without the goblin nation in general and Ragnuk II in particular to act as her official diplomat with magical creatures, she feared she would be unable to gain any significant inroads with any magical creature nation.<p>

Her advisors to the Wizengamot assured her that the vote would not be close, especially given how thoroughly Cresswell had cleaned out Voldemort's followers immediately after she became Minister. But she could not rest easy until it passed. There was too much riding on this vote.

A soft knock jarred her from her thoughts. "Come in. Ah Percy, is it 1:45 already?"

"It is Minister. Griphook confirmed Harry is waiting at the Alexandra's."

Amelia swept past Percy with a word of thanks. As she left, two hard-faced aurors fell into step behind her. She sighed. She hated the need for their services but she could not risk someone trying to attack her, not now. People waved and greeted her but they noticed her guard and moved on quickly. A few minutes later, she and her entourage apparated to Alexandra's.

"Hello Harry," she said congenially as he noticed her approach. "How was your session with Griphook?" Her eyes twinkled knowingly.

"It was very special Minister. I had no idea my family had so much. It is overwhelming."

"I had the privilege of spending a great deal of time with your grandfather during his later years serving on the Wizengamot. He was an incredible man, one of the most dedicated public servants I've worked with. And of course James was one of the most…colorful aurors I led during when I was an officer."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "My dad was an auror?"

Amelia nodded. "One of the most unorthodox, along with Sirius. James only served for about 6 months after graduation before he and Lily went into hiding but he was enthusiastic in his endeavors. But we can discuss more about James later. Minevra told me she explained why I am asking you to come to the Ministry today. You will take your place as Head of the Potter and Black families, displacing the current Black family representative and finally filling the Potter family seat."

"Griphook didn't say there was a Black family representative."

"He doesn't know most likely. I am morally convinced the man is a Death Eater but he is one of the few who either does not bear the mark or else he can conceal it. Unfortunately, there is no evidence, however remote, tying him to Voldemort which saved him from the purge. But you can dismiss him when you take the chamber, which will send a symbolic ripple throughout the chamber as you take your seat."

"If you'll follow me, I'll have one of my associates apparate with you then we'll proceed to the Wizengamot chamber."

Harry followed the Minister to a small spot alongside Gringotts before she and one of the men turned on their heel and disappeared. The other man grabbed Harry's arm and without warning he felt himself squeezed through the tightest tube as colors whizzed by in a blur. Had the man not been holding him, Harry would've collapsed.

"So that's apparition," he asked dizzily, trying to steady himself.

"Yes sir. You're doing well. Many people vomit after their first experience. Please follow the Minister."

Harry swayed a little but by the time they reached the Atrium, he was walking steady. After the initial rush of nausea, it wasn't a bad experience, certainly much quicker than flying and using a portkey. He tried to avoid many of the stares as Amelia led him past the courtrooms and towards a much larger chamber.

"All right Harry. When you enter, stand off to the side. I've already informed Wilber Dowling, the Lord Speaker, you will be participating. He will announce that you are arriving to fill the Potter and Black family seats. " She pointed down to a rather scrawny man with goatee. "You will approach that man—William Boothroyd—and tell him he is relieved. It may be difficult but do not say anything else to anyone or respond to anyone who may call out to you. There will be dissent but it is all perfectly legal and Dowling will corral the group quickly. Once that is done, all you will need to do is sit and wait for the vote to be called."

Before he could reply, she walked through a side door and a minute later was sitting beside Dowling.

_BANG! BANG!_

"The Chamber will now come to order," boomed Dowling who did not seem to be yelling but his voiced reached all the way back to Harry. "Before we attend to the vote, I would first like to welcome Lord Harry Potter, who will be filling the Potter family seat and, due to the unfortunate passing of Sirius Black III, the Black family seat as well. Mr. Potter."

Immediately, there was whispering and muttering all around Harry. Several people applauded while others hissed. Several called for attention but Dowling stoically ignored them. Boothroyd stared dismissively at Harry as he approached, which steeled Harry, rather than intimidating him.

"You are relieved sir," Harry said, making a snap calculation that he should be cordial.

For a moment, Harry feared the man would make this difficult. But after an uncomfortable silence, he sneered and left without a backwards glance. Without looking at anyone, Harry took the seat and face Dowling. Amelia smiled and nodded from behind.

"Thank you Mr. Potter…"

"Lord Speaker, this is an alarmingly miscarriage of procedure. _Lord _Potter," the man laced the title with scorn. "Is not even an adult." Several people yelled agreement but many more defended Harry.

Dowling pounded the gavel until silence returned. "Mr. Murrison, your concern is noted but as Mr. Potter is the head of both families and is within a year of 16, he can assume the seats. There will be no more discussion on the topic of Mr. Potter. We are here today to vote on the full and complete repeal of Law 15. Mr. Weatherill will have the floor to argue in favor of the repeal while Madam Malfoy has been appointed to argue against the repeal."

Harry resisted looking for Narcissa Malfoy. How could she possibly be allowed to serve on the Wizengamot? Her husband was rotting in Azkaban after his failed assault on the Ministry and yet she survived the Ministry's purge. He looked up at Amelia and saw she had a look of intense distaste.

Mr. Weatherill, a short, pudgy bald man with a very old fashioned beard, meandered up to the stage. "Thank you Lord Speaker. Ladies and gentlemen, in 1881, the Chamber passed one of the most odious pieces of legislation in our history. As other nations around the world, from the United States of America to Brazil to Indochina were embracing the distinct and unique magical creatures within their borders, building relationships that last to this day and formed a bedrock of unity that helped those nations survived the horror of war that erupted throughout the 20th century, our great nation erected a wall of legal discrimination between humans and non-humans or part-humans. And during those epic conflicts of the 20th century, we were beset by vampires, werewolves, and other creatures who were convinced it was we who were their oppressors!"

Weatherill pounded his fist on the podium. "We, the most powerful and greatest magical nation on Earth, the oppressors. But rather than look within and root out the cancers on our political body, we doubled down on discrimination! We cast werewolves aside, refusing to hire them and punishing people who would! We assaulted vampires and places of business that off them protection! And all the while we said we were the home of the free! HOME OF THE FREE! No one believed us; they ran to You-Know-Who. They chose a monster that promised freedom than the government that can actually provide freedom. And we let them go!"

"You-Know-Who has returned to this nation ladies and gentlemen and he has his old army of part-humans and magical creatures. But I do not want you to vote for reasons of defense. I want you to vote because it is the right and proper thing to do. My fellow delegates, we must tear down this wall of discrimination!"

As Weatherill left the stage, the Chamber erupted in thunderous applause. Harry joined in without hesitation. But he couldn't help but wonder how Narcissa would follow up that speech.

The Malfoy matron did not possess the force of character or enthusiasm of Weatherill but she calmly looked over the crowd. "Thank you for giving me the privilege to speak on behalf of witches and wizards throughout this nation and the world. My friends, the greatness of this nation is not in the force of arms. What has sustained our society and culture, what has made us the most powerful nation on Earth and a beacon of freedom throughout the world is our honor to tradition and those who died to make this land free for all witches and wizards."

"In centuries past, we have extended the olive branch of peace to our comrades within other magical communities. Each time, when we turn our eyes away, they attack our children and our way of life. I agree that Law 15 is extreme my friends but it can be reformed. It should not be repealed. When we grant an optimistic equality to people who have harmed us, how long will our way of life survive? How long will it be before our children are subjected to lessons extolling the goodness of the giants who destroyed whole villages? How long will it be before goblin children, who do not understand our way of life and why this country is truly great, are in the same classes as our children? We will teach our greatest secrets to those who would sooner see us dead but by then it will be too late."

"Before I step down, I ask each and every one of you to vote not with your heart but consider the implications of what we face when we forego our history and the lessons we have learned and clutch to the viper to our bosom, all because we confuse liberty with equality."

As Narcissa stepped down, there wasn't the same degree of applause but there were voices all around Harry that approved her sentiment and some even considered changing their position. He was shaking with anger as Dowling called the vote. Harry was counted twice in favor of repeal as the count was tallied. Then those opposed were called.

Dowling looked back to one of the scribes. "What was the count my friend?"

Harry was close enough to the stage to hear: "165 in favor—126 opposed."

"165 votes in favor! The motion carries!"


	5. The Funeral of Albus Dumbledore

_A/N—I do not own Harry Potter_

**The Funeral of Albus Dumbledore**

The stars twinkled majestically in the sky, a sea of brightness on a twilight canvas. This type of evening, so clear and so peaceful, was the type Severus Snape remembered fondly from his youth. When the night was like it was tonight, he could sneak out and stay in the woods or by the creek, a brief respite for his fathers incessant, drunken, and maudlin abuse. To this day, Snape could not understand how such a kind and peaceful woman could marry such a drunkard.

His mother…Eileen Prince…how he missed her. She shielded him from the worst of Tobias' wrath and bore more than any women should have to bear. But she showed him as much love as she could.

"Snape," called a whispered voice from his left, dragging him from his thoughts. "Snape, Gurney says he found something."

"What does he say he found," Snape asked, keeping his voice low. He doubted anyone was within earshot that the Death Eaters would need to fear but he believed strongly in taking as few chances as possible.

The other Death Eater, Byron, put his hand to his ear, listening to a microphone Snape had modified for the Dark Lord. "He says there is a grave with an eye inside a triangle. Sounds like what we're looking for."

Snape nodded. "I agree. Tell him to hold in place and I will be there shortly. You will not move. Am I clear?" When the other man nodded, Snape made himself invisible and made his way silently through the village square and towards the park. His lips twitched upward as he saw two young teens lying under the stars. How he envied them.

Snape slithered through the gate to the church cemetery before making himself visible. His comrade, Gurney, was waiting five rows back. "'Ere it is boss," he said, holding his wand over the cold stone marker. "Found it by chance I did but it's got to be t' one we're looking for."

Snape traced his finger over the symbol, a rather curious combination of a straight vertical line inside a circle inside a triangle: the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, from the children's tale.

Snape did not understand why the Dark Lord was interested in fables but he had been adamant about finding any information about the Hallows and ordered Snape to explore places where Dumbledore once lived for any clues. Snape never expected to find anything though. But he was wrong.

Snape stood straight after looking over the marker. "Exhume the body Gurney," Snape said imperiously. "I need to check in with Byron." As his comrade went to work Snape gave a quick report to Byron via patronus and sent another message as well.

"All 'ight Snape," Gurney said, levitating the lid off the coffin. "Go ahead and take a look."

As he moved the few remains of Ignotus Peverell, Snape looked for anything strange. When he saw nothing by eye, he cast a number of revealing charms for magic but again nothing. Lastly, he ran his hand up and down every inch of surface on the casket, knocking intermittently on the wood. After five minutes, Gurney pulled him out.

"Find anything Snape?"

"No. There was nothing unusual and no sign of the cloak. We need to return to the Dark Lord immediately. He will need a status report."

Gurney shrugged. He hardly cared about status reports. He was not a confidant of the Dark Lord and hardly cared to become one. He had a niche and was comfortable in it. Other people could handle everything else.

When the trio arrived at Malfoy Manor, Gurney and Byron walked off to their quarters, leaving Snape to speak with the Dark Lord.

"Enter Severus," beckoned the Dark Lord as Snape went to raise his hand to knock. The Dark Lord was standing with his back to the door, looking out at the starry night. Despite his outward calm, Snape could sense the swirling storm of furious energy orbiting around him.

"Milord, I found the tomb of Ignotus Peverell. The marker had the symbol you showed to me. Unfortunately, there was nothing in the casket."

The storm intensified but the Dark Lord stood rigid. "Peverell you said Severus," he said softly.

"Yes milord."

"The wand maker was correct then."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Milord?"

"Do not concern yourself with the matter Severus." He turned and his eyes blazed. "You have done very well finding this grave. For now, you may rest. Tomorrow, we shall give the wretched masses their day of peace to _honor _Dumbledore." The Dark Lord sneered. "We will need to prepare to make an example of certain families who allowed the Minister to pass her blasted repeal of Law 15."

Snape did not move for fear of upsetting the Dark Lord. Now he understood the cause of his fury. While Yaxley had worked very hard to convince the Dark Lord the repeal would succeed, it did not change the fact that the Dark Lord lost a significant bargaining chip at this early stage of the war. He would now be under even more pressure to hit the Ministry a good lick to convince people here at home and abroad that he was in fact a force to be reckoned with despite Minister Bones' aggressive approach.

"Will there be anything else you require milord?"

The Dark Lord turned back to the window, gazing out at the stars for several moments. "No Severus. You have done well. Retire for the evening and I will speak with everyone tomorrow. Unless I am mistaken, we are going to have fun these next few weeks."

* * *

><p>Professor McGonagall was nursing a whiskey, having a rare drink, when Galatea entered her office. "Hello Minevra."<p>

"Hello Galatea. Please sit. What can I do for you?"

Galatea's eyes were red and puffy. McGonagall suspected hers were too. "I wanted to speak with you about Gellert actually."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. That was certainly not what she expected. "What would you like to discuss?"

Galatea looked down for a moment. "Minevra, he is growing weary of the indifference he has received." Seeing McGonagall flare up, she raised her hand. "Please child, allow me to finish. He is not asking for any liberty or freedom. He understands the situation, or at least that he is under guard and under your eye. But you must understand he is not the fool. He knows you spirited him away, unbeknownst to any magical authorities. He doesn't know where he is but he knows you do not want him escaping."

"Enough Galatea," she said wearily. "What is it he wants?"

"He wants to talk with you. He wants you to tell him something of why he is here. Essentially he wants a show of faith from you."

McGonagall downed the rest of her drink with a gulp. "I do not have patience for this. He has been in that shack for barely three days. I will deal with him after the funeral and on my terms, not his."

Galatea looked at her sadly. "Minevra, is it so terrible you speak with him? You have only allowed me to see him thus far to bring him food and potions. It may help if he speaks with you."

"What have you told him?"

Now Galatea looked affronted. "I have said nothing. I resent the imputation."

"Forgive me. I did not mean to imply you had betrayed anything. I just want to know what you and he have talked about."

"He doesn't talk with me much except to ask when he can speak with you, or the person who brought him here at any rate. He's still recovering and adapting to regular meals and potions."

McGonagall sighed and looked over her shoulder. Dumbledore was not in his portrait, which disappointed her. "All right Galatea. I will go speak with...that man, if only to quell his questions."

"Would you like me to come?"

She shook her head. "No. I will go wake Remus and station him outside the door. Alastor and Bill are currently monitoring the perimeter but I would like additional coverage in the shack with me all the same."

After donning a robe, she set a patronus for Remus. She had to only wait for a couple minutes before he came down the stairs. He looked alert, likely due to a quick potion given the smell on his breath.

"Thank you for escorting me Remus."

"Of course Professor. Are you sure this is something you want to do?"

"I'd prefer not to but Galatea has convinced me of the need to at least discuss some information."

"Well, I'll leave it to your judgment. I let Moody know we're coming."

She smiled. "Thank you Remus. I had not thought of that."

Minevra was grateful it was such a clear night. She tried not to look towards the lake as they passed. She sniffled softly and dabbed her eye all the same.

"Hello Professor," Moody greeted as they approached the shack. He tapped the air with the head of his cane and the air rippled and swirled. "Path is clear. Do you want Bill or I to come with as well as a precaution?"

"No, Remus will be enough. I shan't be gone long. I have little desire to speak with him at all, much less for an extended period of time."

Remus stayed downstairs, watching the door at the top of the staircase. McGonagall wished she did not need to bother with this exercise, especially so late at night. But she understood the need to keep Grindelwald passive, or at least satisfied. She held no delusions of his weakness. He was an incredibly powerful and wise wizard whose knowledge of magic, light and dark, was likely equal with Dumbledore.

She entered the room without knocking, unsurprised to see Grindelwald sitting on his bed, staring out the window despite the hour. He turned to her with a small smile. "Galatea convinced you to come then."

McGonagall conjured a chair—silently and without her wand, a show of skill to the former Dark Lord—and sat. "I spoke with her. Do not misunderstand my intentions; I came because I believed it necessary."

He shrugged. "Haughty little minx aren't we," he said sarcastically.

"What do you want," she said impassively, refusing to rise to his bait.

"Who are you?"

"I am your warden."

"Is that all?"

"It is."

"Why don't you trust me?"

"I believe you know the answer to that question. I say again, what do you want?"

Grindelwald was frustrated, which did not upset McGonagall in the least. "What do you want with me? Why bring me here?"

She decided on some of the truth. "I brought you here on the recommendation of a friend, who suggested you may be of some benefit in the current conflict."

"I assume this 'friend' is Dumbledore and this conflict is with Tom Riddle?"

McGonagall said nothing.

"I met him you know. Tom Riddle," he said, watching for any sign of reaction. While this news did surprise McGonagall, she showed nothing and hid her thoughts behind her mental protections.

"In 1944, before his final year at school I believe, a young man called Tom Riddle suddenly showed up, without notice, at one of our Romanian outposts. A sentry discovered him snooping around the forests. Tom killed him and three others before my men subdued him. Imagine their shock! A 16-year-old wizard fought three wizards at once and killed them before five overwhelmed him. When they brought him to me, I thought they were describing Dumbledore for a moment: the speed of his movements, the ferocity of his attacks, and the lethality of his methods were reminiscent of my old friend."

"The power he possessed! When he and I were alone, I saw a raging fire untamed in his eyes. And the insolence! When I asked why he came to Romania, he spat in my eye and said nothing. My sentries found nothing unusual in the woods. He had a crown of some kind on his person that had rather interesting charms but that was all."

"By then, I knew my war effort was doomed to fail. My muggle puppet, Hitler, was failing miserably in the East, as was my army. In the West, the magical forces were doing much better than their muggle counterparts, threatening Vienna, where I made my capital, months before the muggle Soviets reached Berlin. I considered sending Tom to Nurmengard for processing but I knew I would need to dedicate a squad of men to make sure he didn't escape, men I did not have. And when he was there, he'd have to die immediately."

"No, I decided to let him go. I saw in him the potential for a revival of the Dark Arts and I hoped he could accomplish what I never could. I was blinded by power and hatred for my enemies. I had it in my hands to eliminate the worst Dark Wizard in centuries, including myself. And I allowed him to walk away, return to school."

McGonagall was surprised by the bitterness in his tone. Was he trying to soften her or was he truly sorry for not murdering Tom? Her stomach knotted at the thought of Grindelwald killing teenage Tom but she could not find fault with imagining a world without Voldemort today.

"Albus is dead, isn't he?"

McGonagall jerked her head once up and down, an entirely involuntary gesture.

Grindelwald looked down and chuckled ruefully. "I suspected as much. Why else would Galatea move me, in the company of strangers no less? He was a great man, something I recognized but never fully appreciated. I don't apologize for all the decisions I made. I am who I am and I cannot change what I have done in the past. But I do regret those decisions and the destruction that was caused. I terrorized a continent, and with my allies in Indochina and Argentina terrorized the world."

"I don't believe you regret the destruction," McGonagall said curtly. "Had you won, you would've ruled over the continent, murdering muggles and destroying the magical way of life."

Grindelwald threw his head back and laughed like a loon. "For one so old, you are very naïve. Of course I would have ruled as a tyrant had I won. I never denied that; did you not hear me when I said I apologize for nothing. But you are trying to look at me, today and in the here and now, with the lens of an alternate reality. You are blinding yourself to what I have experienced in decades of isolation. I assure you, as I lay on a tattered mattress with nothing to comfort me but my thoughts, I see every person I murdered, directly and indirectly. I see the smiles on the faces of my minions as they conducted the most hideous experiments on my muggle and magical prisoners. And I remember the pride I felt as my armies swept all before them, toppling governments all throughout Europe, even as I cradled oceans of blood in my hands."

"You cannot imagine how many times I considered taking my life, alone in my tower. After a few weeks, I forced myself to stay in my quarters on the top floor. I felt so many lost souls, staring silently at me from the shadows, invisible, silent, and smothering. Oh, I deluded myself initially, blaming the fools and cowards who fought against me. But those delusions could not be sustained. On my hands was that destruction. And that was when the regret started to ferment."

He turned toward her, his gray eyes holding hers. In those eyes she thought she would see pitiless, remorseless defiance. But she saw humanity…saw the regret. She still could not bring herself to trust him; she knew how masterful an actor tyrants were, at least the 'good' ones, the ones with staying power. That did not mean he didn't make her thoughtful.

"Why tell me this?"

He turned away, his face set. "Consider it a show of faith."

McGonagall stared at him then got to her feet. "I do not trust you Grindelwald. But I appreciate you telling me what you did."

He snorted. "But you won't tell me anything?"

"I told you Dumbledore is dead."

"That doesn't count. I already knew."

McGonagall shook her head. "There will be time for an orientation later. You have my word that I did not remove you for Nurmengard to imprison you in this shack. But until I am ready, you will not leave here. Is there anything else?"

Grindelwald stared at her for a few seconds then he shook his head. She left him without a backwards glance.

"Is everything all right professor," Lupin asked skeptically.

But McGonagall nodded. "Everything is fine. I will attend to Grindelwald after all of the students and guests are safely home. Until then, we have much to attend to."

Remus nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. He blinked a couple times and rubbed at his eyes roughly. "I still cannot believe he is gone."

McGonagall looked down, tears in her eyes. "Neither can I. But the war will go on. I will feel better after tomorrow, or at least more comfortable with moving forward. While I miss Albus, it will be easier to go on once we lay him to rest."

As they left, Bill gave them a small nod as he kept watch over the front of the shack. Presumably Moody had taken patrol over the back part of the shack near the forest.

After Lupin had returned to his quarters and McGonagall to hers, she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. There were too many thoughts swirling in her mind. She was glad she took the time to speak with Grindelwald. She didn't say much but she never expected to admit Dumbledore had passed away either. She saw no problem with him knowing but, given his history, she marveled at how his little narrative impacted her enough to even admit that. Dumbledore had warned her he was a very persuasive man, even more so than Tom Riddle before he succumbed totally to his Voldemort persona.

Just as she felt herself falling to sleep, a bright light burst into existence. As she blinked and started, she heard the portraits doing the same.

"That is Severus' patronus Minevra," said a deep soothing voice over her shoulder. Apparently Dumbledore had recovered quicker than she.

She looked at the doe, which was standing peacefully in front of her desk. "What message do you have?"

_We have discovered the symbol in the graveyard. Checking Peverell for the cloak._

The doe dissipated and the office fell back into midnight darkness. She turned to Dumbledore. "You were right. Voldemort is searching for the Hallows."

He nodded. "I suspected he would. His plan was executed beautifully that night at the Ministry. He wanted us to believe he cared about the prophecy, which was an obvious target in hindsight." Dumbledore hung his head. "I should've looked to see what happened to Gregorovitch after Ollivander was confirmed missing."

"You cannot think of everything Albus. He timed his kidnap of Ollivander brilliantly. By waiting until after school began for him to leave on vacation, no one considered the Dark Lord's hand. And when it became obvious he was a victim of foul play, the Ministry was in full hysteria mode, covering up anything that would lead people to believe he had returned."

"But back to the message. Should we be concerned that they found the resting place of one of the brothers?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "It is to be expected that he would eventually seek out the hallows. I cannot be sure what Gregorovitch told him, or what information Tom tore from him rather. Ollivander knew nothing of the hallows, beyond the legend of the elder wand. That poor man was murdered for nothing."

"Where is the cloak then Dumbledore? You sound confidant that Voldemort will not be able to get his hands on it."

"It is not that I am confidant that Tom cannot possess the invisibility cloak. Rather, it will do him no good. You must understand Minevra that the hallows themselves, while exceptional and extraordinary magical artifacts, will not make one master of death when combined. In fact, I daresay that from what studies there have been of the hallows, the cloak and wand pale in significance to the stone. Unfortunately, there is little doubt that Tom possesses the stone."

"You believe he has the Gaunt family ring?"

Dumbledore nodded. "The Gaunt family ring was engraved with the Peverell coat of arms, or rather the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. Galatea and Gellert are far more knowledgeable of the true nature of the stone but its powers are truly extraordinary. In the hands of someone like Tom…" Dumbledore shuddered. "That is a thought that frightens me more than any other."

He looked down with a wane smile. "But you should try to sleep my very dear. We can speak more of these matters later."

McGonagall smiled and rose to her feet. "Good night Albus," she said as she retired to her quarters.

* * *

><p>Harry woke just as the sun was creeping over the horizon. He stretched and yawned. He stayed up late with Hermione and Ron last night, much later than the other Weasleys went to bed. At first, he had been excited, recounting the experience with the goblins and the Wizengamot.<p>

Then the reality of the moment hit home. While Harry still felt a small sense of betrayal by Dumbledore and still resented him keeping him in the dark, the man's death hurt him very deeply. Whenever he was in danger, whether from Quirrell or the basilisk or the phony Moody or the Ministry, Dumbledore would be there to save him. Harry did not love him, not like Sirius. But he cared deeply for Dumbledore. And Dumbledore cared for him, possibly loved him; after all, how else could he have given Harry similar protection as Lily when he gave his life to save Harry.

As he took a quick shower and dressed in his robes, Harry could not stand waiting in the room. He wrote a quick note for Ron and left it on dresser before he left the dorm. The halls of the castle were quiet, for which he was grateful. There were a couple hundred people in the castle and several hundred more in Hogsmeade. It would be an impressive scene, though Harry knew many of the people coming weren't here for Dumbledore but as an obligation.

The morning promised to be beautiful. As he left the castle, he smelled fresh grass and the odors of the forest. Before going to Hagrid's, he headed down to the burial site, adjacent to the lake. A veil of mist rose above the lake, the water much cooler than the warmer air. It cast a very elegant look over the bank.

About one thousand chairs surrounded the plot where Dumbledore would be laid to rest, the marble sepulcher sitting on the bank of the lake. It was a vibrant white, the early morning sun shining off it with a pale glow.

As he turned to look down, he noticed a very fat man in a somber but sleek suit looking over the lake, skipping stones. He was about to turn away when the man called out.

"How do you know my name," Harry asked as he approached the man.

The fat man chuckled, his walrus mustache quivering jovially. "I had the pleasure of teaching Lily and James many years ago. And I remember when you were born. Your mother was so happy and proud. She invited me to St. Mungos." He looked at Harry out the side of his eyes. "You take after James though, in appearance and demeanor if I hear correctly."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Horace Slughorn." He offered his hand, which Harry shook. "I was potions professor, until I retired in 1981 at the recommendation of Albus. The war was over and I was ready to retire." He continued to look out over the lake. "It is hard returning…given the circumstances."

Harry stayed for a few minutes, skipping a few stones in companionable silence, even if he hardly knew Slughorn. He was about to leave for Hagrid's when Ron and Hermione. As he waved them over, Slughorn turned to see the newcomers. "Ah, friends of yours Harry?"

Harry nodded. "This is Ron…"

"Weasley," Slughorn finished. "I taught Molly and Arthur as well. If you are not a Weasley, I'll take jog around the lake." He jiggled his stomach showing he was kidding.

Ron looked a little uncomfortable but he nodded and shook Slughorn's hand. "Nice to meet you."

"And you are my dear," he asked Hermione politely.

"My name is Hermione Granger," she replied, shaking his hand.

"Good to meet you both. If you'll all forgive me, Professor McGonagall asked to see me before breakfast." He cast one last look at the sepulcher before leaving.

His friends watched him depart. "He seemed like a nice man," Hermione said.

Ron shook his hand. "From what mum and dad have said, Slughorn likes to prop up people he believes are special and ride their coattails. They never said he was a bad person but if he didn't feel you were special, you wouldn't really be on his radar."

Harry watched the man go through the castle doors. "I didn't get that impression but we'll find out. I wonder if Professor McGonagall is trying to coax him into taking over for Snape since he was run from the castle." He clenched his fists at that last sentence. He wished Snape had been captured and arrested. How dare he risk Gryffindor students, especially those who couldn't even fight back, after failing to kill McGonagall?

Hermione walked over and laid her hand on his arm. "How are you feeling this morning Harry," she asked gently.

He grabbed her hand and looked down, blinking back tears. "I'll get through. For me, this isn't just about Dumbledore either. This is as much Sirius' funeral in my opinion."

She freed her hand and gave him a hug. Ron gave him a sympathetic look but he could sense some misgivings. Harry, who knew why Ron was looking a little sour, wanted to throw something at him. Harry had largely avoided the topic of his newfound wealth but Bill had brought it up; he was excited because he always knew and wanted to see how Harry felt. Right away Ron went silent for most of the evening.

"Shall we go to see Hagrid before breakfast," Hermione said as she let Harry go. She no doubt could feel the tension.

"Lets."

But when they arrived, Hagrid wasn't home. Fang was barking and jumping by the window. When they tried the door, it was locked.

"I wonder where he is," Hermione asked. Then a bellowing roar echoed through the forest.

"NO WEAR HAGGAR! NOT LIKE SWEET!" A much softer voice tried to say something, presumably Hagrid. More roars from Grawp answered.

Hermione giggled at the fight between brothers. "My, my. It looks like Hagrid is trying to dress Grawp for the occasion."

Ron looked horrified. "How could he try to bring Grawp?"

"Well, I don't think he'll end up bringing Grawp. Hagrid has done a lot of work with him but he isn't ready to be with people yet. But I applaud Hagrid for trying to socialize his brother."

Ron looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "Hermione, Grawp nearly killed you."

"Oh for heaven's sake Ron," she said rolling her eyes. "He didn't nearly kill me. He tried to grab me but he was curious. I'll admit I was scared but I don't think he would've hurt me intentionally. And eventually I think Hagrid will be able to tame him some."

"Come on," said Harry. "Let's go back to the castle. It's early for breakfast but not by much."

The Great Hall was beginning to fill as they came into the castle. They waved to some of their classmates but most people were intent on their family and friends at their tables. When Harry looked over the Slytherin table, he saw it was divided, quite obviously. Families such as the Malfoy's and Goyle's were sitting at the end closest to the door, casting baleful looks at the people sitting on the other end, such as the Zabini's. Harry noticed Slughorn was sitting at that end of the table.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron grabbed seats closer to the high table and saved seats for the rest of the Weasley family. "Did either of you see the Slytherin table?"

Hermione nodded while Ron craned his neck to see. "I see that Slughorn is sitting with them," Ron said darkly.

"Yeah, but the table looks divided. Malfoy's group doesn't seem to like the group Slughorn is sitting with."

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Who cares Harry? They're Slytherins. Why should they care about Dumbledore?"

Hermione clenched her teeth and Harry heard a dull _thud _under the table. "You're incredible Ron. Stop thinking of this as a Quidditch match. Harry's right. Something is odd at the Slytherin table."

Ron rubbed his leg and was about to retort when Arthur, Molly, and Bill came down and sat around them. "Thanks for saving us seats," Arthur said. "And you're both spot on Harry and Hermione. The hardliners in Slytherin house do not want to be here and they do not like how warmly the more moderate elements of their house are treating Dumbledore's death. If you look closely, you'll see some Slytherin families are actually mingled between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff while some families from those two houses are sitting with the hardline Slytherins."

"Please don't talk politics right now Arthur," Molly said. "How did you three sleep? I wish you'd have gone to bed when the rest of us did." She furrowed her brow as she looked at Ron in particular. Before they had to answer, Ginny, Charlie, and the twins arrived and Professor McGonagall rose.

"I want to thank you are for coming today and for joining your children in the castle. In an hour and a half, the ceremony will begin." McGonagall looked to her left and right, at the professors sitting along the high table. "For many years, I remember sitting with my colleagues and listening to Albus welcome new students, award the House Cup, and just give simple announcements. I've also listened as he provided words of wisdom and resolve to our students during dangerous times. No one will ever be able to fill the void Dumbledore leaves in the Hogwarts family. I will not attempt to try. But he would not want us to sink beneath our grief and we won't! Today we move forward!"

As McGonagall stepped back, the other professors began to applaud and eventually the floor stood and applauded as well. She looked a little surprised at her impromptu speech and the response it received. She bent for her goblet and raised it, waiting for everyone to do the same.

"To Dumbledore," she said when they were raised.

"To Dumbledore," repeated the crowd.

There was very little conversation throughout the hall as people ate breakfast with their families and friends. When there was about thirty minutes left before the ceremony began, Hagrid and Slughorn, easily the two largest men in the crowd, ushered people down to the lake. Off in the distance, Harry saw Moody, Kingsley, Dedalus Diggle, and Tonks guiding the much larger crowd from Hogsmeade.

Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley family were seated in the middle of the 3rd row. Harry ended up sitting between Hermione and Ron. Ron looked a little miffed at the arrangement, which made Harry smile in spite of himself. Hermione though looked fine sitting between Harry and Ginny. But she was much better at keeping her emotions in check than Ron.

After everyone was seated, Professor McGonagall introduced an older wizard who stepped forward and led the funeral. His speech, while well-presented, captured nothing of the Dumbledore Harry knew, who he was as a man. After about ten minutes he was starting to get angry. What was this generic tripe?

Hermione reached out and squeezed his hand. "Take it easy Harry," she whispered. Harry looked over at her and was about to retort when she dug her nails into his palm a little. "Look around Harry. These types of ceremonies are never for the people who truly loved the deceased, especially when it is for someone as famous as Dumbledore. This is for the majority of people who only knew the legend. Most of us, and that includes Ron and I, did not know Dumbledore as you did."

Harry looked around and indeed saw many people (most of them that he could see in fact) were moved by the speech. Harry caught Hermione's eye and nodded. She gently squeezed his hand and released it.

After nearly thirty minutes, the man wrapped up, extolling Dumbledore as "a champion of all that is good in this world and a watchful protector for the magical community". Harry clapped politely, more relieved than anything else.

"Thank you Mr. Pinkard," McGonagall said as he left the podium. "And now we move to men and women who knew Dumbledore throughout his life, as a young man coming into his own during Hogwarts and as a man, standing up to the darkness of Gellert Grindelwald and Lord Voldemort while teaching and guiding over two generations of young witches and wizards in the ways of magic, developing what has been recognized as two of the greatest generations in the history of our great nation."

"To begin, please welcome to the stage Mr. Elphias Doge."

Harry remembered Doge from his rescue last year. He chuckled at the bright green fez with vibrant orange tassel. It was one of the most absurd hats Harry had seen, but also reminded him of Dumbledore, who always seemed to wear outlandish robes.

"Thank you Minevra," he said in a rumbling baritone after kissing McGonagall on the cheek. He looked towards the sepulcher and then down as he shook his head. "I have had the privilege of knowing Albus Dumbledore since we were both starting Hogwarts all those decades ago. I came to Hogwarts sickly and weak. I still showed the signs of dragon pox, which I overcame only scant weeks earlier. It was a painful experience, sitting alone on the train as people would look in, cringe, and flee."

"But then one young boy entered and asked if he could join me. He was bubbly and excited. And he seemed to not even notice my condition. I could hardly believe it. But I knew, when he told me his name, that he was a similar outcast, if for much more tragic reasons. But we were fast friends, Albus and I."

"During school, I saw firsthand the extraordinary magical abilities Dumbledore possessed." Doge chuckled. "I remember Dumbledore experimenting with fire charms. He must have set his bedding on fire at least 20 times before he mastered the charm to set things aflame with actually causing any damage. But that was who he was as a wizard. That was what he loved about magic. Centuries of human evolution and we've barely scratched the surface of magic."

"But even as he exceled, he was never vain or arrogant. He suffered so much during his youth, he could not fathom allowing others to suffer, much less he hurt people himself. In our 5th year, after a particularly brutal match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin, the poor 3rd year Ravenclaw beater, who embarrassed the Slytherin team, was captured and publically humiliated. But Albus came to her rescue, taking on four 7th year Slytherin students and three 6th year students before the professors arrived. Dumbledore did nothing to harm them but they could not even scratch him. And that was a far greater lesson than simply beating them would be."

Doge looked down. "When Dumbledore's sister died, that was the lowest point in his young life. He loved his family, particularly his mother. She cared for Ariana, who had been scarred as a child and her magic was broken, no longer under her control. When Kendra died, he was the sole provider for Ariana and Aberforth. Her passing, barely five months after Kendra's, would forever influence Dumbledore. He served bravely in the war against Grindelwald, ultimately challenging and defeating him. After that war was over, he dedicated his life to the education of young witches and wizards."

"But no matter what the challenges, Dumbledore was steadfast in his opposition to the Dark Arts. He was never driven by power. A lesser wizard could've conquered the nation after defeating Grindelwald but he quietly returned to teaching, ultimately becoming Headmaster—I daresay the _Greatest _Headmaster—this great school has ever known. And even in those final hours, he was as willing to extend a hand to a small boy with dragon pox as the day I met him. Thank you."

Harry clapped. That was more than he ever knew about Dumbledore, but it fit the mold for the man in every way. He felt there were some things Doge did not talk about, but it touched more on the spirit and soul of the man than what he heard before. Several rows behind Harry, an older man snorted and sat on his hands, completely disgusted by Doge's eulogy.

Professor McGonagall shared another embrace with Doge and a few muted words before he returned to his seat. "Thank you Elphias. And now I'd like to welcome Professor Horace Slughorn to the stage."

Slughorn spent a few seconds looking over the crowd in silence. "I did not have the privilege of knowing Albus as a student or a school friend. Old man that I am, Dumbledore still had fifteen years on me. I first met him in 1916 when I was drafted and deployed across the Channel to Italy as the war against Owle Bullock was reaching a crescendo. My regiment had men and women from all walks of life, some who were going gaily into the war as if it were an adventure, even knowing the horrors that had been unleashed on the continent since 1914. Others were scared and could hardly hide it. None of that mattered though, once we took our place in the line."

"It was a rugged, dangerous war," Slughorn described heavily. "Owle made his stand in Italy, forcing our forces and those of our allies to fight through the mountains—and his giant allies incidentally—to break into his fortress. Albus was serving in the army as an officer in the engineering corps; he was far too valuable as a front line soldier like me. But there could be no questioning his courage and ability. As our army stalled on the Isonzo, Albus approached my division commander with a daring plan to apparate our force to the south west coast of Italy, outside enemy held territory, and mount an amphibious attack on the coast to force the Italians to divide their forces. We knew that if the attack failed, we would likely die. But Dumbledore, and the officers under his command, built an impressive fleet of light, speedy transports with some of the most elaborate wards protecting them I'd ever seen. More importantly, he suborned himself to our brigadier and fought in the attack."

Slughorn paused and looked over the crowd. "You all know the history. Bogliasco fell easily and the soft underbelly of Italy was open to our division and eventually our army. Without the leadership and ingenuity of Albus Dumbledore, it is highly unlikely we would've broken the stalemate in the mountains, at least without expending many tens of thousands more young witches and wizards. Albus won his first Order of Merlin, First Class. At the celebration, I was fortunate enough to have drinks with him; he was seeking to avoid the press. We spent several hours discussing current events. Then he asked me what I wanted to do after the war. And I told him of course that I had no idea. Maybe I'd just stay in the army."

"But Albus encouraged me, having listened to me talk of my love of potions, to use the government grant for veterans and pursue my potions mastery. I never considered actually going doing that, even if I loved the subject. And at first I did not heed his advice. After the war ended in 1918, I remained in the army for ten more years, deploying across the globe from Chile in South America to the Philippines in Southeast Asia. But Albus never stopped contacting me, never stopped pushing me to consider following my dreams. Finally, after my second tour in the Philippines, I retired and pursued my potions mastery, which I completed in 1933. In 1934, Albus recommended me to Professor Dippet for the position of potions professor and the rest is history."

Slughorn paused again, this time to gaze at Dumbledore's resting place. "I tell you that story for two reasons. The first is to show the type of man Albus Dumbledore was: brave, intelligent, caring and supportive to all. But I also hope you all remember the sacrifices that he made in defense of his country. We are at war once again. Albus died fighting darkness, exactly as he was when I first met him. Today is a time of mourning but it must also be a time of resolution. Albus would expect nothing less of us." Slughorn shared a meaningful look with Professor McGonagall. "A friend reminded me of that."

The crowd clapped as Horace stepped back. To Harry's ears, it was a more appreciative applause than what Doge received. He never knew that Dumbledore served in war, besides the epic duel he was supposed to have had with Grindelwald in the 1940s. It was a side of him he never knew existed but one that Harry wished he could've asked Dumbledore about.

"Thank you Horace," McGonagall said as he returned to his seat. "Before we lay Albus to rest, I would like to say a few words about the situation we now face. As all of you know, Lord Voldemort and his followers invaded the Ministry on June 18th. The bravery of six Hogwarts students—Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood—ensured that his followers would be captured and imprisoned when members of the Order of Phoenix arrived. But Voldemort still managed, though an act of savagery and deception, to murder Albus Dumbledore. By murdering him in cold blood and invading the Ministry, we are consequently in a state of civil war against the forces of darkness."

"You can imagine what a bitter blow Albus' death is for me personally. Albus was my mentor as I progressed through Hogwarts and beyond. It was due to he that I earned my transfiguration mastery and earned a position on the Hogwarts staff." She dipped her head and sniffed. When she resumed, she sounded stronger than before. "But his passing has impacted us all. Yet I cannot imagine anything more Albus or anyone could have done to prevent the rise of Lord Voldemort. Let us not fool ourselves: there was never an opportunity for peace so long as he was alive and his powers intact. He was determined, whatever the consequences, to force war upon our great nation. Set against such a desire for death and destruction, our course is clear. Lord Voldemort has shown convincingly that there is no chance of expecting he will ever give up his practice of using force to gain his will. He can only be stopped by force."

"We have a clear conscience. "We have done all we can to preserve peace. But Lord Voldemort cannot be trusted, and no people, magic or muggle, can feel itself safe. This is intolerable. And now that Lord Voldemort…" She shook her head vigorously. "No. I will not give him the satisfaction. Now that Tom Riddle has forced war upon us, we must be resolved to finish it. I know all of you will your part with calmness and courage."

Harry jumped to his feet as McGonagall stepped back. And he was not alone. She may not have talked about Dumbledore directly but she touched on how everyone in the crowd was feeling. She acknowledged the applause with an embarrassed smiled for a few minutes before silently beckoning Pinkard, the priest or whatever he was, back to the stage. People slowly stopped applauding and sat back down.

As Dumbledore's body was brought down the center aisle, several people broke into tears. Harry felt tears slide warmly down his cheeks. Hermione turned to Harry, her face streaked with tears. "I can't watch," she said and leaned in as Harry wrapped his arms around her. Harry used the opportunity to lower his head as well until Dumbledore was placed in the sepulcher. He looked up then and saw Ginny was smiling as he held Hermione.

Pinkard closed the doors and waved his wand, muttering spells under his breath. After a minute, lavender and teal flames billowed around the entire edifice. The smoke that rose from the flames was white but Harry noticed golden flecks. And though there was no wind to speak of, the smoke blew across the grounds and over the castle. As Harry looked up, he noticed the wards sparkling as the smoke made contact. When the flames finally dissipated, the sepulcher was gone, replaced by a small headstone.

Sensing his question, Pinkard explained. "Per Dumbledore's will, and at the approval of the Minister and Board of Governors, his remains have been reduced and absorbed by the wards of Hogwarts. As one of the most celebrated Headmasters of all time, he will now be an eternal guardian of the school."

_Remembrance_ called a soft voice in his head, the voice of a small boy. Harry shook his head, wondering where the voice had come from.

_It is okay my friend _the voice said soothingly. There was a melodious quality to the voice Harry thought he had heard before. Then he realized what was happening.

"Fawkes," he said softly.

Apparently he was not quiet enough. "What's the matter Harry," Hermione asked. She looked a little concerned. "Come on. Everyone is heading back to the castle."

_Go with your friends Harry. You and I can speak later. Now that Albus' will has been executed and he has become one with the castle, I am now and forever your familiar. We will be able to speak telepathically and we can discuss other advantages later._

Harry shook his head again. He hadn't really thought much of Fawkes since the Battle in the Ministry. He was still growing and nesting. Charlie told him that was to be expected and in another month he would be ready to fly again. But Harry never expected to have this type of connection with him.

But as he followed his friends—his surrogate family really—up to the Gryffindor dormitory, he smiled as he considered the gift Dumbledore left Harry.


	6. The Training Begins

_A/N—I do not own Harry Potter_

**Special Notes:**

_Fawkes' mental speech is italicized._

_**Harry's mental speech is italicized and in bold**_

**The Training Begins**

"Why did you choose me?"

Harry was sitting alone in the Room of Requirement, save Fawkes who he carried to the room on his arm. He had grown considerably over the past couple weeks but it would still be about a month (according to Charlie) before he was grown enough to fly.

Fawkes chirped merrily but Harry heard the chuckle in his mind. Needless to say it was an unusual experience.

As before, Fawkes spoke telepathically.

_I choose you my young friend because of the immense propensity for loyalty you possess. Few people earn your trust and earn your affection. But when they do, you will never turn your back on them and will always care for them. To see that in one so young is refreshing._

Harry blushed at the praise when sent Fawkes into another round of merry chirping. "Thank you. When were you…born I guess?"

_I was nurtured in 1923 when my mother removed several of her feathers and limbs before a burning day. When it came, she was made whole by the process and I was born from the limbs she removed. It is an intriguing process I will admit, but one I will never experience._

"Why?"

_Because I am a male, which is very rare for the phoenix species. As such, I am incapable of producing offspring. But, as a male phoenix, I am also more likely to have more than one familiar in my lifetime._

"When did you meet Dumbledore? Can you tell me anything about him when he was younger?" Harry was a little surprised by the urgency with which he wanted to learn about Dumbledore's past but he quickly rationalized it by thinking he needed to learn everything he could to eventually defeat Voldemort.

_That is another reason I chose you my young friend _Fawkes said sadly. _You are, for better and worse, a marked man. Fate has decided you will stand against the most powerful dark wizard in a century, perhaps in a millennium. I cannot predict the future but I do not want to see you perish before you have truly lived your life. Such a light as the one burning inside you cannot be allowed to vanish before it's time._

_But to your question about Dumbledore, he had actually yet to take his place on the Hogwarts staff. He was serving in the Department of International Cooperation. He had a rather bland title: Junior Aide to the Department Registrar. To those around him, he seemed to possess no ambition and no energy, at least for advancement. But his was indispensable to the Ministry. All men have their trades and for Albus his trade was __omniscience._

_In 1928, I encountered Albus in the mountains of Portugal…the Serra da Estrela. He was investigating a series of peculiar deaths and disappearances that had occurred throughout Europe. Only Albus seemed to find them peculiar of course._

That sounded eerily similar to Dumbledore's concern last year about Bertha Jorkins disappearance and Barty Crouch Sr strange appearance and disappearance on the grounds.

_That is a good comparison young one. And like last year, back then it was the work of a dark wizard: Gellert Grindelwald. Albus told me he immediately recognized the magic of his old friend. But what truly disturbed Albus was the people disappearing. Three apprentices of renowned wand makers throughout Europe vanished. Who would worry about an apprentice after all? Dragon handlers and poachers, some of them convicted criminals, disappeared as well. No great loss of course. Who would worry about criminals meeting a sticky end?_

_Sometimes people can be frustratingly blind, even when the obvious is staring at them in the face. No one wanted to believe another war like the one Owle Bullock unleashed on the continent in 1914 could happen again. Who would be mad enough to want to see such death and destruction! It is a human condition I have seen repeatedly since meeting Albus and following him around the world. When presented with an uncomfortable, or possibly terrifying, reality, people rationalize their circumstances until they feel comfortable. But just because the ostrich sticks its head in the sand, that doesn't mean the lion won't enjoy a dinner of ostrich._

Harry could not disagree with Fawkes. He knew he was guilty of doing the same himself. But one thing startled him about Fawkes story.

"Dumbledore was friends with Grindelwald?"

Fawkes nodded. _I was at Albus' side when he entered that final battle with Grindelwald. That was perhaps the most difficult moment he had ever faced as a wizard. You see, there is a dark stain in Albus' history when it comes to Grindelwald._

"What happened," Harry asked. He felt pain and sadness emanating from the phoenix and saw a lone tear sliding down his beak.

_You remember Doge's speech this afternoon yes? Well, Ariana Dumbledore was a very troubled young girl. As a child, after a spurt of accidental magic, she was set upon by muggle boys who feared her. When Albus' father saw them, he tortured and beat them. He paid for his actions twofold: he was imprisoned in Azkaban and he could not save his daughter. Her spirit and magic were broken irrevocably. She would never function again._

_Kendra moved her two sons and daughter to Godric's Hallow to escape the scorn of what her husband had done. She kept Ariana safe and cared for her but Albus and Aberforth were not kindred spirits. Whenever they fought, it elicited a strong reaction from Ariana. Shortly before Albus finished his 7__th__ year, he and Aberforth had a terrible row. Kendra tried to keep Ariana away but she knew what was happening. As she held her daughter tight, a burst of accidental magic killed her and damaged part of their home._

_The two brothers were devastated. Aberforth tried to skip the remaining months of school but Albus overrode him, only allowing him home for the funeral. Albus was sufficiently ahead of his peers that he was exempted from end of year classes and took his NEWTs from home. He stayed home and cared for Ariana. Shortly after the start of summer however, just as Albus was beginning to chafe under his imposed house arrest, Grindelwald arrived._

_The two young men hit it off immediately. Albus told me frequently about the power his old friend possessed, and how intelligent he was. I believe Albus was attracted to Gellert as well, which clouded his judgment and led him to overlook the worst of Grindelwald's character. The two collaborated about a new world order with the magical race serving above the muggles. For Grindelwald, that meant absolute power. For Albus, that meant the freedom to escape his sister._

_Aberforth had enough one day and stood up to Albus. Ariana could not be moved and travel with Albus on his mad quest for power. Grindelwald showed his true colors that day, goading Aberforth and eventually pulling his wand on the younger wizard. Aberforth, powerful in his own right, did not back down and soon Albus was drawn into a 3-way duel. Neither participant could've predicted what happened next._

"Ariana…she got involved didn't she?"

Another tear slid down Fawkes' beak. _The poor girl couldn't handle the commotion. She threw herself into the duel, her accidental magic forcing the three boys to try to duel one another and avoid her. I doubt we will ever know for certain who cast the curse that took Ariana's life. Albus, Aberforth, and Grindelwald were throwing so many around with reckless abandon. When they finally realized the poor girl was dead, Grindelwald fled. He had prior records in England and his native Bulgaria. He would've been arrested immediately. Albus could not bring himself to face his brother for several years after that moment. They have never been close since, though Aberforth would pass intelligence onto Albus and eventually joined the Order._

Harry couldn't believe what happened to poor Ariana. He instinctively knew Dumbledore blamed himself. Even if he hadn't cast the fatal curse, it was he who befriended Grindelwald and blinded himself to his evil machinations. Harry also suspected that was why Dumbledore had so much trouble confronting Grindelwald all those years ago. Dumbledore may have blamed himself for ever befriending Grindelwald, but what if during that battle he finally discovered who cast the fatal curse?

_We can speak of Albus more later young one. Before you go to sleep, we need to cover a few of the abilities we will be able to share as familiars. The first, quite obviously, is our ability to speak with one another telepathically. _Fawkes chirped/chuckled again. _You haven't tried to communicate with me telepathically of course._

Harry blinked. He already knew Fawkes could read his mind, having done it a few times already. He hadn't tried to communicate with Fawkes too. He furrowed his brow and concentrated.

_**Can you hear me?**_

_I can young one. You can pick thoughts from me as well if you concentrate hard enough. No amount of occlumency will be able to protect your mind from me. Hopefully that won't be a problem._

_**Of course not. I still honestly can't believe you and I are bonded. How far apart can we be and still communicate with one another?**_

_Assuming there are no wards between either of us, or certain types of wards I should say, we can be approximately 800 km apart and still feel one another. There are wards however that compromise our ability to communicate. Fortunately, most people do not bother with them because so few people are known to be bonded with phoenixes._

_**So is that how you knew to come to Dumbledore when Voldemort cast that killing curse in the Ministry?**_

_Essentially yes. I felt Albus' emotions and knew he was in danger. He asked that I stay at Hogwarts while he attended to the Ministry battle._

_**But you and he left Hogwarts after Fudge 'sacked' Dumbledore. Didn't you guys?**_

_We did for a short while but before the end of the week, both he and I were back in Hogwarts. Albus was not about to surrender the castle so easily, nor was he going to risk the safety of his children. He moved silently, helping students in their rebellions against Umbridge and making sure they were not apprehended. I spirited several people from detentions, endlessly infuriating Umbridge since she didn't know what was happening._

Harry laughed. He thought some people, particularly two red heads, had a surprisingly easy time causing mischief. He could easily imagine Dumbledore, working like a ghost, clearing obstacles for pranksters. But…

_**Where was Dumbledore when I collapsed during the History exam? He didn't save any of us.**_

_Albus was not in Hogwarts that week. He spent much of that time with helping Hagrid move his brother to the mountains outside the wards. He also checked on Minevra. When Snape was brought before Umbridge and you told him about seeing Sirius in the Ministry, he first checked on him then alerted Albus about what happened. By then, you and your friends were gone. Albus interrogated Kreacher then went to join the Order members who went with Sirius._

Harry, not wishing to dwell on Sirius, changed the subject. Fawkes gave a small sigh that Harry felt as a small song that gave him strength.

_**What are other abilities we can share?**_

_I can help you travel through wards that wizards cannot normally break through as you've seen. The more time you and I spend in one another's presence, the greater affinity you will develop for fire magic. Albus, though he is not naturally a fire mage, was quite adept at manipulating fire prior to his passing. I can help you develop those abilities._

_**What is a fire mage?**_

_A fire mage is a witch or wizard who has a natural affinity for fire and fire magic. Fire is one of the four classical "elements" according to muggles. The others are air, earth, and water. There may be other names for people with an affinity for one of those types of magic. Albus referred to them as "Elementals" when he explained the concept to me._

Harry remember pyrokinesis showing on the list of the abilities that consistently in his family history. Wind magic was an infrequent ability but he thought it would be awesome if he could learn more about fire magic.

_We can speak more later young one. We should return to your dorm._

* * *

><p>Professor McGonagall was sleeping peacefully. In fact, it was the best night's rest she had since that dreadful Umbridge hag came to Hogwarts. Everything went smoothly with Albus' funeral. She also was able to get her new professors situated in their quarters.<p>

Because she was so peaceful, she cursed foully when someone knocked on her door and woke her.

"Bloody hell! Who is bothering me know." She fumbled for her glasses, a bit hazy, and looked at the clock. She chuckled ruefully. She knew this guest was coming and shouldn't have been surprised he would come early.

After throwing a robe over her pajamas, she descended the stairs and opened the door with a wave of her wand. "Good morning Darius," she said graciously. "How are you this morning?"

Darius Rajivari smiled and shook his head. He was a very imposing man physically. He was just less than 2 meters tall and 155 kg. McGonagall knew him as a child, having helped his mother earn her transfiguration mastery. After his father died, she left the country and settled in India. But she couldn't escape her grief and eventually took her own life while Darius was serving in the Indian magical army. At her funeral, McGonagall offered Darius a place in her home until he could set his affairs in order. But he declined. Instead, he retired from active duty and traveled the world. She was actually quite surprised how little convincing he needed to come home when she called on him after the Battle in the Ministry.

"I am very sorry to bother you so early Minevra. I only just finished checking in with the Ministry. I hope this is no trouble."

McGonagall shook her head. "I was thinking as you knocked that I shouldn't be surprised you would be here early. How went your travels?"

Darius smiled. "It has been wonderful." He frowned. "I was saddened to hear about Albus' passing. I never knew him but I saw him speak before the International Confederation of Wizards 6 years ago. And of course, there is the resurgence of Tom Riddle."

McGonagall shook her head. "It is truly fortunate Amelia Bones was elected Minister. But there is still much to do to confront Tom."

"I gathered from your message you would like me to help with the war in some way," he said nodding. "I will do whatever I can. That man destroyed my family. He is a mad dog and must be put down."

McGonagall reached out and held Darius' hand. His other hand swallowed hers whole as he placed it over hers. Darius' father served as the Indian military attaché to Britain during Voldemort's first push for power. In 1974, in direct defiance of his government's orders, he suborned himself to the Ministry and aided a raid on a contingent of Death Eaters at a small villa in Wexford County in Ireland. Intelligence thought the Death Eaters, many in Voldemort's inner circle, were alone. But it was a trap and Voldemort arrived on the scene with a platoon of dark wizards. It was a route and Darius' father was killed in the skirmish.

"Well, I hope soon you will enlist in the army or the auror corp," she said after a moment of silence.

He nodded. "I can do that now if you would like. But I gathered there was something else you needed of me first. Am I correct?"

"You are," she said nodding. "I need you to work with one of my students over the summer. His name is Harry Potter."

Darius' raised an eyebrow. "The baby who 'defeated' Tom correct?" He made air quotes as he said defeat. "What would you have me work with him on?"

"I am developing a training regimen for Harry with the help of several professors and I plan to bring in special tutors for him next year. A few other select students will be included as well possibly."

Darius scratched his head. "If I remember correctly, Harry was a year old when survived Tom's attack in 1981. He would be almost sixteen I would imagine, or possibly already sixteen."

McGonagall nodded. "He will turn sixteen on July 31st. He will be emancipated on that date as well."

"What would you have me do with Harry?" Darius chuckled. "I'm very much interested in meeting him actually. His story is surprisingly well known abroad."

"Next year I am introducing all students to a combat curriculum. I never agreed with Albus' decision to suspend that subject when he became headmaster in 1952. But Potter, and a select group of his friends, will require more advanced training in defense, charms, and transfiguration. Over the summer, I would like you to put a physical training regimen together for Harry, similar to what you went through when you joined the Indian army but likely on a reduced scale. I am giving you latitude to exactly what you would like to do with him, including any magic you wish to teach him. All that I ask is you prepare him physically to handle the rigors of combat."

"How long will I have to work with him?"

"He will be going home tomorrow and I expect you'll work with him through August 31st."

Darius mentally calculated. "58 days then, or figure eight weeks. That isn't a great deal of time Minevra. It will largely be basic training, especially if you give him assignments to complete."

McGonagall shook her head. "Don't worry about that. He will be excused from summer assignments."

Darius shook his head in turn. "I'd prefer he still have his assignments actually. I didn't mean for you to misunderstand. I think he should become used to juggling many different things. All I am saying is I hope you are not expecting me to conduct extensive training in such a short amount of time."

"I understand. He will have other opportunities once he returns to Hogwarts, as will the school in general. Whatever you can do—and I trust you will push him as hard as you can—that is all that I expect."

Darius nodded. "I would be happy to help."

"Terrific! In that case, Harry and the others remaining in the castle will be returning home today. I will ask Harry to come to my office and introduce you then." She looked at the clock on her desk (4:30 am) and smiled. "There is a guest room next door if you would like to retire. I would like to sleep for a couple more hours."

Darius chuckled. "Of course Minevra. I will leave you be but I'm going to take a walk around the grounds before I come back to rest. I'm not very tired but even if I were, I'm still wired from my travels."

* * *

><p>"Wake up mate," Ron called, throwing Harry's bed curtains open and flooding him with sunlight.<p>

"Bloody hell Ron! A little warning next time." Harry yawned and stretched. "When are we leaving?"

"Hermione already left actually. You missed breakfast in fact. It's already 10:30. Where were you early this morning?"

"I went to the Room of Requirement with Fawkes to talk a bit. We were there later than I expected. I can't believe I slept so long." He looked around for his trunk but it was already gone. Only one outfit was left folded over one of the chairs. He sighed. "I guess I get to go back to the Dursleys."

"Well, at least it is only for about a month," Ron said, looking on the bright side. "Then you're emancipated and can finally get away from those prats."

Harry perked up a little at that thought. Ron was right. "All right mate. Let me shower and change. I'll meet you in the common room."

"Good morning Harry," Mrs. Weasley greeted as he came downstairs. Harry only saw her, Mr. Weasley, Ron, and Ginny. "Bill and Charlie went back to work," she said, sensing his question. "Fred and George left as well. They have a lead on a new property in Diagon Alley." Her nostrils flared for a moment but then she visibly calmed. "We wanted to stay until you went home."

"Thanks. I hope I'll be able to see you guys in August." Harry couldn't help but smile. "After Griphook shows me my family homes of course."

Molly gave him a hug, unexpectedly shedding a few tears. "I'm glad you will finally have a chance to reclaim your birthright Harry. I only wish you could have Sirius with you too."

Harry nodded. "I wish he were here too." He pushed his sadness to the side. In his mind, he heard Fawkes sing softly, helping him feel more peaceful.

"Well Harry, we'll escort you to Professor McGonagall's office. I know you don't want to hear it but you will have protection from the Order," said Arthur.

"I never cared that I was being watched Mr. Weasley. I just wanted to be kept in the loop." Some bitterness at Dumbledore's actions surfaced.

_You and I need to discuss Albus' actions last year young one. You are harboring a misplaced anger._

_**What do you mean?**_

_Not now young one. The Weasely's are already wondering why you're suddenly silent._

Indeed they Weasley's looked confused but they did not try to rouse him. "Sorry guys. Let's go see Professor McGonagall."

The castle, now that the funeral was over, was practically empty. Filch glared at them as they descended but besides him they saw no other professors. Privately, Harry liked the castle this way sometimes. It felt as if he had it all to himself.

"Good morning everyone," Professor McGonagall said. "Thank you for staying Arthur and Molly."

Molly gave Harry one last hug as Arthur said it was no problem. Ginny and Ron bade their good byes and then Harry was alone with Professor McGonagall.

"Please sit Mr. Potter," she said, gesturing at the chair opposite her desk. She stared at him for nearly a minute, making Harry feel quite uncomfortable. Just before he was about to say anything, she continued. "It has been a fairly eventful couple weeks, wouldn't you say Harry," she asked with no trace of irony.

"I'd say so professor."

"Well, before I send you home to the Dursley's, there are a few last things we need to discuss. First, I am planning a supplemental training regimen for you. The first part will take place over the summer in fact. But you will begin in earnest in the fall. I am telling you now so you are not blindsided right before you start."

"Great!" And Harry meant that. He had been interested since meeting with Griphook. "What will I be doing? Who will teach me? Can Ron and Hermione learn with me too?"

"Easy Mr. Potter," she said with a small smile. "First, I am still working on the exact regimen. After serious consideration, we've decided to focus on certain of the traits your history showed. I fully expect we'll very quickly eliminate some of them within a couple weeks but I want to be sure we're not wasting anyone's time. I also need to find suitable trainers and make arrangements. The Minister and Dirk Cresswell are going to offer assistance but I also need to work with other contacts."

"As for Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger joining you, I am afraid that will not happen for some of your lessons. Remember these are abilities you exhibit and they may not be shared. However, you can rest assured that I am going to be revamping the entire Defense curriculum for all students beginning next year. You may be training on the side but I will not allow the rest of my students to leave Hogwarts unprepared for what is to come."

Harry was about to ask what she meant but at the last second refrained. He doubted she would tell him. So there was no point in asking. "You said I would be starting over the summer. What do you mean?"

She chuckled. While he didn't make anything of it right then, a week later he'd remember how predatory that chuckle was.

"You can come out Darius."

Harry's eyes widened as he took in the imposing man coming out of the small study. The man—Darius—seemed to notice his shock and smiled congenially. "Hello Mr. Potter. It is a pleasure to meet you." He held out his hand. Harry noticed a few scars on his hand and a few on his arm. Clearly this man was, or had been, in his share of scraps.

"Darius is going to be your tutor over the summer Harry," McGonagall said. "He served in the Indian magical army. He holds several decorations, including the Akbar Crest—the equivalent of the Order of Merlin, First Class essentially. I have known him since he was a child when I mentored his mother during her transfiguration mastery."

Darius conjured a chair next to Harry and sat. "Minevra was one of my mother's greatest friends actually. After my mother died, she offered me a home to settle my affairs, even though it had been nearly two decades since we last saw one another."

"So you never came to Hogwarts?"

Darius shook his head. "I was schooled in India. You see Mr. Potter…"

"You can call me Harry. I'm…not really comfortable with being called 'Mr. Potter' if you understand."

"Thank you," he said politely. "As I was saying Harry, my father was Indian but my mother was British. She met my father when she was a junior aide in the department of magical law enforcement and he was the Indian military attaché in 1964. My mother would tell me how she knew immediately he was the one. They married in 1965 and I was born in 1966. He pulled strings, given his new family, and managed to stay on as military attaché far longer than normal."

Darius frowned. "In 1967, people suddenly started disappearing while others were butchered in their homes. Muggle and magical people and families were destroyed. At first, your ministry had no idea what was happening. The ferocity and savagery of the attacks was terrifying. Worse was the complete anonymity of the perpetrators. It wasn't until 1970 that Tom Riddle stepped out of the shadows, under the moniker of Lord Voldemort, and formally launched a war against the ministry."

"My father could not stand idly by while that madman butchered innocent people. He was not a British citizen but this was the only home he cared about now. In 1974, directly contravening orders from Delhi, my father suborned himself to your magical army. The ministry received a report that a group of Tom's followers, many of them high profile, were gathered in a small villa in Ireland along the Barrow. The villa was near a muggle town. Presumably the villains were planning a raid. There were no other magical readings in the area and no wards protecting the villa besides the ones the Death Eaters put up."

Darius looked down and Harry heard him sniff. When he looked up, his cheek was lined with a lone tear trail. "It was a trap. My father and 58 other men and women were killed. My mother quickly packed me up and moved to India." Darius' eyes were streaming freely now. He did not seem to realize it. "My mother always put on a tough show for me. But I caught her crying more times than I could count. It was still a surprise when I learned she took committed suicide."

Harry felt terrible. That poor man gave his life to protect his adopted home, the home of his wife and son. For Harry, who never really considered the wider applications of Voldemort's push for power, this was an illustration that the war was going to be far worse than he ever really imagined.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Harry said.

Darius sniffed and blew his nose on a handkerchief. "Thank you. I appreciate your sympathy, considering all you lost." He pocketed the handkerchief and blinked a few times. "Now then, as Minevra said, I will be your tutor over the summer. My primary goal is to get you in shape physically and introduce you to the concept of warfare." He handed Harry and Minevra each a piece of parchment. "Here is your schedule for the summer, though it is subject to change as the summer progresses."

Harry was speechless.

_5:00 am to 5:30 am—Breakfast_

_5:45 am to 7:15 am—Workout_

_7:30 am to 8:30 am—Luminosità_

_8:30 am to 9:00 am—Summer Homework (Theory)_

_9:00 am to 10:30 am (Monday & Wednesday)—Transfiguration in Combat_

_9:00 am-10:30 am (Tuesday & Thursday)—Charms in Combat_

_9:00 am-10:30am (Friday)—Auror Training_

_10:30 am-12:30 pm—Break_

_12:30 pm-1:00 pm—Lunch_

_1:15 pm-2:45 pm—Workout_

_3:00 pm-4:00 pm—Summer Homework (Practical)_

_4:00 pm-5:00 pm—Tenebre_

_5:00 pm-5:30 pm—Dinner_

_5:30 pm-9:00 pm—Personal Time_

_9:00 pm—Bed_

"Is this…is this for real?"

Darius nodded matter-of-factly. "I am only going to have 8 weeks to work with you Harry. I am also given to understand that at the beginning of August, you are visiting your ancestral homes so we're losing a day or two there. Minevra wants you physically ready for combat and I will not let her down."

Harry cast a flabbergasted look at the Headmistress but she only stared back impassively. "Good work Darius. Thank you for including practical applications with his summer assignments. I will send copies of the syllabi by owl this evening. Do you have any questions before we take you home Harry?"

Harry wanted to ask what difference it made what physical shape he was in to duel. But then he remembered how difficult it was when his friends started to tire as they fled Lucius and the other Death Eaters.

"I don't have any questions professor."

She nodded and waved her wand over a quill on her desk, which glowed pale blue for a moment. A few seconds later, Harry felt the familiar tug at his naval and they reappeared at the end of number four's driveway. McGonagall led them to the door and rapped twice smartly.

Vernon opened the door and snarled wordlessly when his beady eyes fell on Harry and McGonagall. "What are you playing at boy? What if the neighbors saw you?" Then he noticed Darius and his eyes widened. "Who the bloody hell is this?'

McGonagall stepped over the threshold, pushing past Vernon effortless. "I do not have time for your nonsense Mr. Dursley," she said curtly. "I have a few things to say and I will be on my way."

"I don't bloody want to hear anything you have to say," he ground out. "And who is this?" Vernon eyed Darius darkly but Harry could tell he was afraid. Darius looked politely impassive, as if he were ignoring the entire conversation since he was not part of it.

"This is my friend Darius, formerly of the Indian magical army." She smirked as Vernon blanched. "He will be staying with you until July 30th. He is going to be training Harry, who will regrettably be unable to do any of the menial tasks you normally set for him." She finished that last sentence politely but there was an unmistakable threat left hanging.

Vernon purpled. "How dare you presume to say what I can and cannot require of my nephew! We clothe and feed him and provide him a place under our roof out of the goodness of our hearts."

"I will not argue with you Mr. Dursley," she snapped. "If for no other reason, you will leave Harry alone since he will be gone from your home on July 31st when he turns 16. He will be emancipated and the blood protection your wife provides him will vanish. So rejoice. Your nephew will no longer be a burden on you." She looked utterly revolted now.

"What do you mean the protection will be gone," asked an unexpected voice. Petunia stepped out of the kitchen looking scared. She didn't seem to even notice Harry or Darius. She stepped towards McGonagall. "What will happen to us once he is gone?"

"What do you mean Petunia," Vernon asked. "The boy will be gone. Who cares what happens after?"

Petunia ignored him. "What if something happens like what happened last summer when that Dementor attacked Dudley? What about your Lord Voldemort?"

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "You seem to know more of our world than I imagined. Dumbledore told me what was in his letter when he left Harry with you. I was there actually. But there was never a mention of Lord Voldemort or Dementors."

Petunia blushed slightly but Harry knew she was having the same fears she had last year. "What will happen to my family," she asked McGonagall again.

Harry never considered the consequences for the Dursley's when he moved and the blood ward vanished. He wasn't sure how much Dumbledore told her but clearly enough to make her afraid enough to overrule Vernon last year when he wanted to throw him out and now when he was poised to leave for good.

McGonagall looked unimpressed however. "You worry about your own safety. Where was this concern for your nephew?"

Petunia recoiled as if struck. "We never asked for you people to dump him on our doorstep," Petunia shrieked. "My sister was gone forever from my life and I was happy. Then you put…him on our doorstep without so much a thought for how we would feel."

McGonagall hissed and looked as if she wanted to strike Petunia. "You were always jealous of your sister! You forsook her because of magic. And you treated your nephew like a parasite because he was a wizard."

"That boy is an animal," Vernon thundered. "We normal people…"

McGonagall sliced her arm sharply through the air, silencing Vernon abruptly. "Enough of this," she snarled, her eyes blazing at Vernon, who was ghost white. "You people will be protected after Harry leaves. The Ministry will have their own protections but I will also continue to have members of the Order of the Phoenix monitor your home. Better than you people deserve if any cares about my opinion."

Petunia was pale too, trying to comfort her husband. "Thank you," she said softly.

McGonagall flicked her hand impatiently at Vernon, restoring his voice. "Do you have anything to add?"

He shook his head, though he started turning red again. "The boy will not be troubled this month."

McGonagall clapped sardonically. "Good job! You can make the right decision when you put your mind to it." Contemptuously, she turned her back on Vernon and Petunia.

"I'm sorry for that nonsense Darius," she said with a sigh. "Thank you for your patience. Do you need me to help prepare your quarters?"

Darius still had a resolute poker face but Harry saw him cast a dark look at Petunia and Vernon. "No Minevra," he replied evenly. "I will set everything up that I need for the next month."

"Wonderful. Good luck Harry. I'll look forward to seeing you on September 1st." With a twirl, she was gone. Petunia shrieked as she vanished but Vernon led her to the kitchen without a word.

Darius waited for the door to close then he moved Harry towards the stairs. "I do not want to ask any questions Harry. But I want you to know you have my deepest sympathies for all you must have experienced in this house."

Harry looked down and mumbled unintelligibly. "It was…" He couldn't bring himself to say it was fine because it wasn't even close. "It was what it was. I can't change it now."

Darius pursed his lips and nodded. "Very well. Go ahead and take the rest of the day off Harry. I will prepare the broom closet and everything should be ready by tomorrow morning."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean you'll 'prepare the broom closet'?"

"Patience Harry," he said with a chuckle and, somehow, squeezed into the small nook.

* * *

><p>Several hundred miles away, the sun shone brightly over several dozen witches and wizards building new barracks to house the magical army once the Minister's draft law goes into effect in 5 days. One division (3 regiments or 12000 soldiers) would be recruited in July for training through mid-October. Another division would be recruited and sent here beginning in October and stationed through the end of the year. The country hadn't seen such a massive military buildup since Grindelwald's War. As such, many of the military facilities had been decommissioned and repurposed or simply left for the muggles.<p>

The majority of the facility was already completed and ready for the first wave of recruits. The new barracks were meant for the second wave in the overlap period in October. Dirk Cresswell, the Head of the (new) Department of Defense, toured the facility yesterday and declared himself supremely impressed. The former auror never served in the peace time magical army but he was served with distinction in special missions for the aurors. His praise carried enormous weight.

Along the perimeter were several large guard towers. Right now they were each manned by half a dozen aurors but there was a rumor the Ministry had something in the pipeline that would replace them. About 45 meters beyond the towers was the ward perimeter.

Alistair Montgomery helped design the ward perimeter with the help of a small goblin contingent from Ragnuk's tribe. An elderly man, he first saw combat in the waning months of Grindelwald's war. He remained in the army through the lean years before Voldemort's first push for power, serving as military attaché to the United States, Liberia, and Goryeo. He learned much about different spells and rituals, eventually writing a book on wards and protections used by many nations for defense to this day.

As he looked up at the western flank of the facility, he smiled at the intricacy of the protections in place. The goblins were truly remarkable as magicians. Montgomery absorbed as much of their methodology as he could.

"Sir."

Montgomery turned and returned the soldier's salute. "What can I do for you corporal?"

"General Walsh needs to see you sir. He said it was urgent."

"Well you better lead on. Is he in the administrative offices?"

The corporal shook his head. "No sir. He is waiting for you at Tower 6." Without waiting for a response, the corporal turned on his heel and trotted off to the southeast.

Montgomery tried to stay with the corporal but Tower 6 was on the other side of the facility. As he approached the tower, he felt his age. General Donald Walsh was waiting for him outside the base of the tower. "Reporting as ordered sir," he said with a salute.

Walsh returned it gravelly. "Thank you Colonel. You may leave corporal." When the soldier was gone, Walsh placed his hand on the stone, which glowed pale green for a moment before a doorway appeared. "Follow me."

Montgomery followed the general up the staircase to the top of the tower. He expected to see the customary 6 soldiers but there was only one other man. "Julius, this is Colonel Alistair Montgomery. Colonel, this is Julius Northcott. He works for the Department of Mysteries."

"Say no more. It is a pleasure to meet you Mr. Northcott," Colonel extended his hand. Northcott was about twenty years younger but he looked bookish and frail. Still, his grip was respectable.

"It is good to meet you Colonel. Donny was telling me you were the Ministry architect of the wards protecting this facility." Northcott waited for him to nod. "Wonderful! Well, my people are working on a new weapon that will not only help our brave men and women in the field but also help protect our most important landmarks. I should like to pilot them here when they are ready."

Montgomery was intrigued but he'd seen enough flash in the pan schemes over the years he wasn't easily swayed. "What are you working on? Why do you need my help?"

Northcott smiled. "Tell me what you know of contemporary muggle weaponry?"

"Not as much as I would like," he replied simply.

"Well, the short story is the muggles have developed some truly marvelous weapons but very few have been adopted for magical use. My job is to find ways to do just that. One project we are working on is what muggles call machine guns."

"I'm not familiar with the term."

"Machine guns were invented by the muggles in the late 19th century. They were the contributing reason for the trench warfare the muggles endured during their First World War. In their Second World War, machine guns were common place for fighting not only on land but also on the sea and in the air. The current model is the M2HB, a heavy machine gun developed by the American muggles."

"I won't bore you with the engineering but we are working on a magical modification which would allow us to create 'magazines' of stored kinetic magic that would be fed and fired. We're experimenting with different spells and some have proven more workable than others. The hurdle we are encountering now is the spell is essentially dormant before it is activated so to speak when the gun is being fired. Some spells react too strongly to the process."

"What spells are you able to use?"

"The leg locker curse, the tickling hex, the stunner, the disarming spell, and a rudimentary version of the blasting hex. These spells are necessarily weaker than one would normally cast however. There are others but they are not necessarily applicable to front line use in battle. The other factor is each different spell impacts how many rounds can be fired per minute, which is the whole point of the exercise."

Montgomery nodded. "That makes sense since it sounds like you want one to replace a squad of soldiers."

"Oh we want it to do so much more," Northcott said with a wide smile. "Tell me colonel, how many stunning spells per minute do you think a relatively skilled witch or wizard can cast in a minute?"

"Without distractions, I'd say maybe 20-30. How many would your contraption be able to fire?"

"225-300, at this stage in development of course," Northcott said happily. "In recent benchmark tests, using new feeding methods, we have consistently reached 280 rounds or more but far better to project lower and exceed then promise higher than can be delivered."

Montgomery appreciated his answer. "How many people would be needed to work the machine gun?"

"Ideally two people: one to feed the ammunition belt and another to fire. We are working on ways to remove the loader without affecting performance but we're not there. If one person needed to feed and fire, we've seen a 10-15% decrease in output on average."

Montgomery was impressed. "This sounds like a damn good invention General. Is this something that we'll have and Voldemort won't?"

General Walsh shrugged his shoulders. "I cannot say to be honest. If he had these types of weapons though, I can't imagine him not using them."

That struck Montgomery as a fair appraisal. "Do you have any ideas Mr. Northcott?"

"Haven't the foggiest," he said. "It is my understanding that very few governments have dabbled in muggle weaponry but what has been developed I can't say."

That didn't strike Montgomery as a good answer. It also seemed as if Northcott may have known more than he was letting on.

"The reason for telling you all of this colonel," Walsh interjected, changing the subject. "We need you to modify the wards so they can withstand a barrage of curses from the inside. As I'm sure you can imagine, these guns will put a lot of curses in the air and some will hit the wards. It wouldn't do if they break down from the inside."

"I understand sir. To be fair, we've anticipated that simply due to the sheer number of troops training here and the drills that would be going on. Drednook, the lead goblin liaison, helped us put up a layer of wards to protect from the outside, a layer to protect the inside, and a quasi-mirrored layer that causes both layers to reflect one another; strengthens from exterior attack and interior attack since they feed off one another."

"Can it withstand this degree of assault? Remember we're planning to outfit all 6 towers, each with 3 of these contraptions."

"I'll speak with my team and Drednook again. We may do some additional work but I think we're in good shape even if we took them on now."

Walsh nodded. "We need to be. Prototypes will be arriving as soon as they are manufactured, which should be in 6 weeks. I want a report from you about any necessary modifications by the end of the week."

"You'll have it sir. We will work on more advanced spells as well, in anticipation of Mr. Northcott's future improvements on his handiwork." The civilian engineer smiled at his compliment.

* * *

><p>At 4:45am, Harry was still asleep. Darius smiled indulgently at his charge before blasting a soccer horn right above his face. The boy collapsed in a heap on the floor, horribly tangled in his covers.<p>

"What the bloody hell was that for," he said angrily, kicking and fighting with his covers.

Darius' smile widened. "Breakfast will be served soon Harry. I wanted to be sure you didn't miss it." He chuckled, appreciating some of the young man's virulent curses. "Throw on the shirt and shorts I left out for you and come downstairs," he said as he left.

Still muttering darkly, Harry fumbled for his glasses and looked for the clothes Darius laid out. After throwing them on, he put on his gym shoes and went down to the kitchen. As he sat, Darius set a plate of what looked like pale scrambled eggs with pepper, two sausage patties, and two pieces of wheat toast in front of him. When he tasted the eggs, he grimaced. "These taste off," he said, smacking his lips.

"That is because they are only egg whites. The sausage is also turkey sausage. I'm not going to overfeed you yet since this is the first week in the exercise regimen. We're going to start relatively light but quickly build up. You'll need a lot of calories but I want to get you used to healthy foods."

"I'm not fat," Harry said defensively.

Darius threw his head back and laughed like a loon. "It doesn't matter that you aren't fat Harry. I can assure you that what I am going to put you through is more than you have ever done. We'll shortly see what kind of shape you are in but I'm safely going to wager it isn't good. I need you eating the right kinds of foods so you stay strong as we build up the exercise routine."

Feeling a growing sense of foreboding, Harry choked down the eggs, eating a piece of sausage with each bite. The smoothie or shake thing he gave him to drink tasted pretty good too, which helped him through the meal.

"Terrific," Darius said when he was finished. His eyes twinkled. "Now let's show you what I've done with the broom cupboard."

At first, Harry didn't see anything too different except that it was expanded significantly and there was a staircase. When they reached the bottom, Harry froze, which caused Darius to chuckle.

"What do you think my friend?"

Harry couldn't believe how…_huge _the space was. There was a massive track that ran along the perimeter of the room. Off to the far right beyond the track were several weight benches and weights Harry recognized from Dudley's collection. There were also a number of strange machines he had never seen before.

Off to the far left were a law library, desk, and chair. Harry also noticed all of his school materials were gathered along the desk. In the middle of the track was what Harry assumed was a dueling arena. The air was rippling as if it were very hot. When Harry asked about that, Darius smiled.

"That is an astute observation. The reason is that I have cast a large number of spells in that area and have wards to protect it. If you step through, it will take you into a different looking arena, where we'll practice your dueling."

He looked at his watch. "But first, we're going to start with a morning run. The track is half a mile. For a warm-up, I want you to run for 20 minutes or complete 3 laps, whichever comes first. After that, we'll work on speed development. We'll wrap the running with a few circuits on the hill." Darius pointed to a large hill off to the front left portion of the track. "Any questions?"

Harry couldn't help but stare. "I'm sorry. Are you serious?"

"I am," he said simply. "Step up to the line and get ready."

At first, Harry felt pretty good. He even thought this wasn't too bad, running pretty briskly for the first three quarters of a lap. But as he neared the starting line, he was breathing heavy and his legs were feeling heavy.

"You need to learn to pace yourself for distance running Harry," Darius said, jogging next to him as he started his second lap.

Harry gave him a dirty look, feeling a little burst of energy that lifted him for another half a lap. By then though, Darius wasn't jogging with him and Harry had to slow to a walk to catch his breath.

"Come on Harry. You still have a lap and a half with only 11 minutes left."

Picking up the pace a little, Harry grimaced. "I thought you said whichever came first: 20 minutes or a mile and a half."

"I did but I'd like to see if you can push yourself to finish the full 3 laps in time. Pick it up!"

Muttering darkly, Harry jogged/ran until he was about half way through his last lap. He couldn't help walking then for a bit. When he reached the last straight away before the starting line, he pushed himself, running hard to finish.

"Don't bend over Harry," Darius said. "It makes it harder to breathe. Stand straight and put your hands on the back of your head."

Harry obeyed, panting pretty hard. "How'd I do," he asked raggedly.

"You clocked in a little over 18 minutes. I'm impressed since I am certain this is the first time you ran for recreation."

"Yeah it was. That was tough."

"It'll get easier as we go, especially since every afternoon will be essentially all cardio. Take a drink and get back to the starting line. The next exercise won't be too bad."

Seriously doubting his new tutor, Harry nonetheless took a long drink of water from the pitcher Darius had out and walked back to the starting line. "What's next?"

"One of the tricks to improving your speed is to run at different speeds. You cover more ground without getting as tired. You also improve your breathing and endurance. For this next exercise, we're going to run for 1 minute, sprint for 1 minute, and walk for 1 minute, then repeat. We'll go for 15 minutes, or 5 revolutions."

Though Harry struggled through the sprints, he actually thought this was a little easier of an exercise than the straight running. He took full advantage of the minute to walk to be sure. He was surprised to see that he covered a little over 2 miles going at this pace.

"It is one of the tricks to riding horses," Darius explained when Harry pointed out he covered more distance quicker doing it this way. "Walk, canter, trot with a horse, spending equal time on each, builds endurance and speed, helping people cover greater distances. We're going to shorten the period you do each as we progress, which will help your speed. Circuits on the hill will do wonders as well, building strength in your calves and quads."

Harry passionately hated running on the hill. He only had to do five laps up and down but it was about 25 feet tall and his legs burned like mad when he was finished.

"You did very well for a first day Harry," he said. "To be honest, I didn't expect you to do as well as you did but you're in better shape than I expected."

Harry was still panting. "Thanks…ever so."

Darius chuckled and led him over to the weight area. "As you know, we're going to work every day, including Sundays. But we're only going to have a specific weight sets on weekdays." Darius showed him the schedule hanging on the wall. "Monday will be for legs, Tuesday legs, Wednesday chest, Thursday back, and Friday shoulders. We're going to be doing ab work each day as well. Have you ever used weights?"

Harry shook his head. "Dudley has a weight set but none of these machines. He may go to a gym though too to be honest. I know Vernon hired a boxing trainer for Dudley last year and they went to a gym to spar."

"Fair enough. I'll walk you through each exercise. All of them are pretty simple. Each day, we will do two warm up sets of the first exercise for each body part to start: the first set will be at very low weight and the second set at roughly half the weight of the 'real' sets."

Darius led him over to a flat bench with a bar resting on two posts. "This is a bench press. The bar weighs 45 pounds." He grabbed the bar and showed Harry how he held it. Then he demonstrated one rep, counting out the number of seconds it took to raise the bar (4), holding the bar when he reached the final position (2), and bringing the bar down to starting position (4). "Timing is critical to lifting weights. Fools bang out reps as quickly as possible, thinking it makes them look good. It is smarter to lift and drop slower, really letting your muscles work. And holding the weight makes your body sustain the weight."

He set the bar back on the rack and waved his hand over it. "It is now 9 lbs to start. We're going to start with a set of 20."

Darius walked him through the warm-ups and real sets for his biceps (barbell curls, dumbbell curls, and concentration curls) and triceps (lying triceps extension, rope pushdown, dumbbell extension). His arms were burning at the end but he did feel like he had worked hard. The last exercises were ab exercises (decline crunches, hanging leg raises, and twisting crunches) left his stomach stinging but he had to admit Darius' chest looked impressive when he showed him his abs.

"Good work Harry. It is 7:35 and I want you to have a cool down so we'll skip _Luminosità_. I expected that for the first day though so it's not a problem." He threw him a small vial. "I don't want you getting too used to this potion but it won't hurt anything if we use it for a week."

Harry gave it a curious look. "What is it?"

"It's similar to a muggle protein shake but it also helps your muscles recover quicker. Trust me. If you didn't drink this, tomorrow morning you wouldn't want to move. But after this week, you'll be more accustomed to the workout regimen."

The potion tasted pretty good, which surprised Harry. He felt the impact almost instantly too, as if all the tension was removed from his arms and legs. "This is good stuff," he said respectfully.

"Don't get too attached," Darius warned. "I've seen many people become addicted to the effects and they work themselves nearly to the point of collapse and drink the potion. They feel like a god. The trouble is eventually the body will rectify the effects of the potion by simply shutting down completely from the shock of such aggressive exercise and sudden cool down."

That sobered Harry, who did indeed like the feeling of sudden relief the potion provided. "I'll trust you with it then."

"Good. We only have a few minutes until we take a look at transfiguration as an offensive weapon in combat."

* * *

><p>After dinner, Harry was weary unto death. Darius spent the hour and a half on transfiguration reviewing many of the spells he already knew but trying to use them in a duel. That wasn't so bad but then after lunch; the workout session was utter insanity. Darius called it max interval training. Whatever he called it, Harry threw up once about half way through and barely made it through the exercises. Worse still, Darius didn't have much sympathy (or at least that was how Harry saw it).<p>

So it wasn't without relief Harry left Darius in the kitchen and fought his way upstairs. He ran a bath as hot as he could handle and settled down for a soak. Darius refused to give him another one of those potions to help him recover.

But as he settled into the tub and started to relax, he couldn't deny that even on this first day, Darius showed him several impressive spells and tricks. Today Darius showed him how to conjure "bodyguards" from debris in the arena during a duel. It was a draining technique but if used effectively it can buy time and swing a duel if the foe didn't expect the attack.

His best lesson by far was what Darius called _tenebre_; the whole lesson was devoted to learning about dark magic and how to combat it. He spent much of the lesson reinforcing the idea that the dark arts were always evolving and the tools dark witch and wizards used to subjugate their enemies were multi-faceted. It wasn't just the unforgivables. There was so much more and the ability to combat such darkness required focus and determination.

Whatever happened, Harry hoped this training would pay off in the end.


End file.
